


The Wolf in Highgarden

by UnlikelyAuthor



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Family, Politics, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-05-29 12:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 75,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6374608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnlikelyAuthor/pseuds/UnlikelyAuthor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With House Lannister’s influence spreading throughout Westeros leaving a trail of bodies Sansa Stark seeks a safe haven.  She finds it in Highgarden with the Tyrell heir, Willas.  The War of the Five King’s leaves the Lannister’s and their allies weak.  Now House Tyrell is poised to ascend as Westeros’s most prominent family, along with their newest member.  The North remembers and the flayed man banners will burn, the Twins will crumble and the lions will be caged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Broken Knight

Willas Tyrell’s first tourney was a momentous occasion.  Not only for the recently of age young man but for the Reach as well.  House Tyrell and the Reach were celebrating Lord Mace Tyrell’s nameday.  Most of the noble houses who owed loyalty to the Tyrells and several from surrounding kingdoms had converged on Highgarden to celebrate.  

In addition to the usual feast, a tourney had been called.  Not an uncommon event, though Willas thinks his new status as a knight may have something to do with it.  At the age of six and ten Willas, the heir to the Reach, was the pride of Lord Mace and his wife Lady Alerie.  Having spent years preparing for this event, Willas Tyrell was about to enter his first list as a knight.

Lord Mace has commissioned a new set of armor for Willas.  He and a squire spent the better part of the day before the tourney polishing it to a shine.  With Willas joking that he intended to blind his opponents with the suits luster.  He did have to admit that combined with the surcoat emblazoned with his sigil as heir the suit is rather good looking.

After seeing to his horse one last time for the day Willas retired to the library after supper.  The library had always been one of his favorite places to spend time in.  Books from all of Westeros and even some from across the sea in Essos, maps and charts of the varying lands of the Reach and beyond and the prized family records of House Tyrell line every shelf nook and cranny of the room.  As a young boy he would often spend time in this room reading whatever caught his fancy.  Even during his training and schooling he still found time to spend there.  

It is in the library that his mother found him, reading an account of the tourney at Ashford Meadow, toward the back in his favorite chair.  “You always did love the library.” She said sitting down by Willas.  “You spent a lot of time here during the rebellion.”  Willas nods.  While he may not have known all of the intricacies around the war he distinctly remembered that year as being full of fear and uncertainty for his father.  Lady Alerie looked at her oldest son for a moment.  “It’s strange to think that the little boy who used to read about birds is now a knight.”  “I still read about birds.” Willas replied in his defense.

The two sat in silence for a moment.  Willas suspected his mother wanted to voice her displeasure with his entering the list. She had never made known such opinions out loud but was always reserved with anything pertaining to his training as a knight.  She was the opposite of his grandmother, who had taken up reminding Lord Mace about his own father’s accident on a horse.

“I don’t think I’ll enter many of these.” Willas said breaking the silence.  “I think being knighted, taking part in a few tourneys will be enough to satisfy father.”  Willas placed the book he was reading down.  “Who knows maybe if I win that will be the end of it.  Or he could get ideas of glory.  I’m not quite sure yet.”

To his surprise his mother chuckled slightly.  “Have you considered who you would name your queen of love and beauty?”  Now it was Willas turn to laugh.  “I don’t think there is much to worry about there.”  “But should I find myself in that position, I was thinking…”  Willas paused smirking for a second.  “of naming Margaery.”    “It wouldn’t offend our bannermen by favoring one of their daughters over another and most importantly Margaery can brag to everyone who will listen that she is the queen of love and beauty.  You know how she loves attention.”  He ended with a smirk.

“She would like that.”  His mother said standing up.  “Do not stay up much later; you have a big day tomorrow.”  With that Lady Tyrell left the room.

Willas went to his room not long after, still nervous but finally tired enough to try and sleep.

* * *

Willas entered into tent that served as the waiting area for the joust competitors.  There was a mix of seasoned and new knights.  Most of the veterans hailed from outside the Reach.  Upon finding the official list he was intrigued.  It would seem he is going up against a Dornishman.  He does not know Oberyn well, having only been in the same room with the man once before and never having spoken to him.  The Red Viper’s reputation is interesting to say the least he knows.  Still it would be an honor for house Tyrell if Willas unseats a Martell.  There is no love between the Reach and Dorne after all.

Willas left in search of his squire and horse.  The crowd roared with applause when a rider was knocked from his horse to the ground on the list.  Taking a breath and seeking to calm himself Willas continued to the stables.  He’s never enjoyed crowds or attention and this is the most number of people Highgarden has hosted in some time.  Willas knows he will be glad to have things return to normal when they all leave.  He’s not been able to spend as much time in the rookery as he’d like.  Perhaps a solitary hunt after the tourney would be nice.

At the stables his horse is calm and composed.  The opposite of what Willas was feeling.  Willas helped his squire mount the green and gold caparison onto his horse.  “Who is your first opponent.” His squire asked.  “Obyrn Martell.  He’s a renowned horseman.”  Willas smooths out the fabric on his horse.  “All the better to start your own tales of glory and honor then Ser Willas.”  Willas laughs “Always the optimist Cedrick always the optimist.”

A head poked around the stable door.  “There almost ready for you my lord.”  Turning to look at his squire Willas expeled his breath.  “Well, help me mount would you Cedrick.”  Cedrick helped Willas onto his horse and then takes the reins to lead him out toward the list.

A new chorus of cheers erupted when Willas enters the list.  Taking the reins himself he approached the raised podium that seats the members of his family in the center of the crowd.  Lord Tyrell beamed with pride as his son approached.  His brothers and sister looked happy to see him.  Lady Tyrell even seemed pleased to see her son in the tourney.  Also approaching the center was Obyrn Martell atop his own proud looking steed.

“My Lord, My Lady.”  Obyrn greets the guest of honor.  Willas raises an eyebrow when Obyrns’ horse bows slightly as the man smirks, not unkindly, at Willas.  “Yes, yes, always showing off Martell.” Lord Mace exclaimed as he climbed from his seat.

Willas turns his mount toward the end of the list were Cedrick waits with his lance and shield.  As he is being passed his lance the crowd starts to get even louder.  It is somewhat unnerving.   _Willas, The Reach, Highgarden._ Some of what the crowd is shouting reaches his ears.  Instead of comfort he feels the expectations of the many fall on him.

For a moment he feels more a boy playing than the image of knighthood he is portraying as he moves his horse into position.  Obyrn looks smaller at the other end of the list; but that will change soon.

The signal is given and Willas urges his horse into a gallop as he races down the side of the list at the same time Obyrn is doing the same.  At fifteen yards Willas lowers his lance and aims for Obyrn’s left shoulder.  The noise from the crowd is such that he can no longer hear the hoof beat of his horse.  

He just misses his mark, but so does his opponent as their horses rush past each other.

After bringing his horse to a halt he turns around to set up for a second pass.  The initial nervousness has past.  Instead he is smiling.  Willas feels confident and ready for the next run.  He can do this, he knows he can.  He felt the lance just grazed the top of Obyrn’s armor.  A little lower and he will have the Dornishman dismounted.  He calls for a fresh lance and feels the excitement build up even more as his squire rushes forward lance in hand.

“I got him.  Just the top of his shoulder.  But I had him Cedrick.”  He nearly yelled at his approaching squire.

“Aye ser.  Bring him down with this next pass.”

This time Willas sets off his mark with vigor.  Again at fifteen yards to go between them he lowers the lance.  Adjusting it slightly lower this time.  He knows he will hit his mark.

As he leaned further into the blow he is shocked when the next thing he sees is not Obyrn falling or even rushing past him like before but the sky instead.  For a split moment he was confused.  Only to realize he was falling backward off his horse.  His right foot catches violently on the stirrup.  He horse whinnies as the weight of his armor brought it down to the ground with him.

The horse lands on Willas’s right leg pinning it at the knee to the ground.  The armor he is encased in is meant to deflect blows, not support the weight of a horse.  His knee is driven into the ground and crushed.

The next thing Willas knows is he is screaming in agony.  The sounds reverberated around in his helmet.  He tried to push the horse away but it was having difficulty getting up.  He feared it will roll atop and crush him.

People are rushing to his side.  One gathers the horse and takes it away while Cedrick works to wretch the helmet from Willas’s head.  It is not an easy task as Willas as thrashing back and forth attempting to get away from the pain.  He soon stops figuring out that any more moment hurts more than it helps.

The crowd was quieter now; the loudest noise coming from Willas.

* * *

The only reason Willas stops’ screaming is because he has to breathe.  Someone is calling for a maester.  “Please try not to move ser.”  Cedrick says as he puts a hand on Willas’s shoulder to push him back into a prone position.  Willas grits his teeth and tries not to scream again.  Instead tears build up in his eyes threatening to spill over.  “By the seven it hurts.” He manages to blurt out.  “I know ser.   Look the maester is coming over.  We’ll fix you right up.”  Cedrick responds, though he does not sound too confident.

Maester Lomy’s makes it to Willas.  “Here my boy lay still.”  Willas puts his head back and concentrates on breathing in and out.  He can’t suppress the groan when the maester moves his leg.  Lomy’s turns to some men standing near “Bring a stretcher.”  Looking back at Willas he says “Can you move your leg any?”

“Yes, but it hurts to try.” His eyes screwed shut against the pain of it all.

“Good, your leg joint should still be in place then.”

Willas wanted to laugh at calling anything about his current situation good.

The stretcher arrived and is placed next to him.  Lomy’s instructed the men to move Willas onto the stretcher.  This time he does not hold back a pained yell as they move his right leg.

Willas would have thought that being carried by others would not be so painful.  But he feels every uneven step the stretcher bearers take.  Or more accurately his leg feels every misstep.  Once they make it to his own chambers there is another painful transfer onto his bed.

They are able to remove all of his armor from his waist up and some from his left leg.  His right is another problem however.  They are just about to try again when Lord Tyrell burst through the doors.  “What are you doing to my son?”  “I am presently seeing to your son’s injuries my lord.  I have not been able to examine his leg yet, but the rest of him seems in working order.  Apart from some bruising and cuts.”

Maester Lomy’s pulls out a vial from his bag that had been brought up and pours some into a cup.  “Here drink this, it's milk of the poppy, and we’ll get the rest of this armor off so I can look at your leg.”

Willas eyes the cup with suspicion.  “Drink.  I assure you it will help the pain.  You will probably sleep through my examination.”

“I’ve heard it addles the mind.”

“Temporarily, yes.  There are no long term effects.  Provided you take it only when needed.”

“Very well.”  Willas takes the cup and swirls the contents for a second before tipping his head back and pouring the contents down his throat.  It had a chalky consistency and a strange taste.  He hands the cup back to the Maester and laid down.  Soon he started to feel his mind slip from him and he felt himself falling backwards into unconsciousness.

* * *

Maester Lomys finished putting away his supplies and exited Willas’s room into the solar.  The entire Tyrell family had taken up every available couch and chair in the room.  Garlan and Loras were starring solemn faced into the fire.  Margery was sitting by her mother on one of couches.  Lady Olenna sits looking bored in a large arm chair.  Lord Mace turns around from where his was pacing the room.

“Well, how is he.”

“Your son is still asleep.  And should remain so for the rest of the day.  He should awaken sometime tomorrow.  It is only his left leg that was injured.  I am afraid his knee has been crushed however.  Thankfully neither of his leg bones were broken.  Though his ankle was sprained.  Most likely when it caught his horse.”

“But will he recover?”

“He will never walk unassisted again.  Other than that he will return to man he was before this.  There was no blow to the head if that is what you are concerned of.”

“Will he…. Will he father children?”  Lord Tyrell finally asked after some strained silence.

“Should he choose too.”

Lord Tyrell ran his fingers through his hair.  “Thank you Maester Lomy’s.”  The maester bowed and left saying he would be back to check on Willas in the night and that it was alright for the family to visit their son and brother.

“You are an oaf.  An oaf Mace.”  Lady Onlenna scolded from her chair thumping her cane on the floor.  “He is your heir.  What kind of a fool nearly gets his heir killed, hmm?”

“He isn’t dead.  And besides I have other sons.”  Lord Mace blinked then shut his eyes for a second.  Had he really said that?  “That… that’s not how I meant it.”  He stuttered as his wife glared at him.  

“Come Margery.” She said as she stood.  “Garlan. Loras.  Let’s visit Willas for a moment.”

Lady Olenna stood as well.  “Men” she said.  “Obsessed with your horses and swords.”  With one last shake of her head she left the room for her own leaving her son alone.

* * *

When Willas awoke he felt groggy and a little confused before everything from the day before came back to his mind.  Looking over to the large windows that afforded him a grand view of some of the gardens he spotted his mother looking out the same windows.

“Mother?” he croaked.

The woman turned to her son a small smile on her face.  “Willas, good morning.  Thank the gods you’ve awoken.  How do you feel?”

“A bit thirsty actually.”

Lady Alerie walked over to a pitcher next the bed and poured a cup of water before handing it to her son.

Willas struggled a bit not to move his leg too much as he pushed himself up to drink.

When he had finished some of the water he laid his head back down, surprised at how much strength it took to do such a simple task.

As his head touched the pillow his stomach churned.  Turning his head quickly he vomited the remains of his last meal as well as the water he had just drank.  Perhaps sitting up was not a great idea at the moment.  His head pounded in his ears as he tried to ignore the nausea.

Lady Tyrell looked at her son worriedly before she called for a servant to help clean him up.

The maester arrived and asked if he could examine Willas’s leg once again.

The heir to Highgarden found himself speaking before he could think.  “Am I going to lose it?”

“No.  You have no cuts or wounds on your leg.  No chance of infection.  You will not lose your leg Lord Willas.”

Relief washed over Willas at the maester’s words.

“I’ll walk then?  Be able to ride again?”

“The riding I do not know.  Walking? Yes.  Though we shall see how well your knee heals.”

Lomys pulled the covers back over Willas’s leg.

“You will need some form of assistance though.  At the moment I cannot tell.  A brace or a cane may suite you.  Or you may need crutches.  It’s still too early to tell.  And I don’t want you up on this leg until I say you are to be.  Understood?”  The maester held his finger up.

Willas nodded in agreement.  He had no intention of doing anything other than what Maester Lomys said.  He could not lose his leg.  The thought terrified him.

“Now, would you like something for the pain?”

Wills put a hand up.  “No.”  He said.  “I’ve had enough of that.”

“Then I will let you rest my lord, my lady.”  The older man bowed to Willas and his mother and left them alone.

“Your brothers and sister will be glad to know you’re awake.  Margaery has been in the sept since breakfast.”

“Margaery saw the whole thing?  Please tell me she did not see me….”

His mother did not respond.

Closing his eyes Willas breathed out only to feel his mother’s hand on his face.  Willas leaned into the comfort of his mother just as he would as a boy.

“She is alright Willas.  So is everyone else.  Would you like me to greet her for you?”

Willas shook his head.  “No.”  He said softly.  “I’m.. I’m tired mother.”

Lady Tyrell crossed to the door of Willas’s bed chamber before turning and wishing him a restful sleep.

Willas looked back out to the window.  He was the heir of house Tyrell, and he had been defeated by a Martell.  Not only was he unseated, but his leg was crushed.  A broken man for an heir.  What must their bannermen think now?  A knight who couldn’t even win one joust.  He didn’t feel worthy to call himself a knight with his terrible showing in the list.  As Willas closed his eyes again one thought echoed in his mind.  

Broken, he was broken.

* * *

By the time Willas’s leg healed and he was allowed to walk with the support of crutches he was dreadfully tired of looking at the walls of his chambers.  Willas has his ups and downs learning to move with the extra support.  Somedays he is fine, enjoying the ability to once again move upright and try to resume his duties as heir of Highgarden.  Other days he finds himself wanting nothing more than to throw the crutches down and run freely as he used too as a boy with his brothers.

During the months leading up to his accident Willas knows his father has been considering potential brides from the different families of the Reach.    This changed after the accident in the joust.  He knew the Merryweathers would accept a match, if they had any unwed daughters near his age.  They had been hard pressed to recover their previous wealth lost when the Mad King exiled them.  However several houses with daughters of marriageable age had discreetly turned down Mace Tyrell’s offers.  The reasoning ranging from their daughter or sister was too young to begin accepting suits to they had received an offer to negotiate for the young woman’s hand before the Tyrells came along.

Historically the Tyrells married into houses within the Reach.  This was due, Willas knew, to the somewhat unstable claim the house had to being lords of the Reach.  House Tyrell had never been kings in their own right, merely stewards of Highgarden before the conquest of Aegon.  Other houses, such as the Florients, would bring this fact up from time to time.  Though no one had yet to dare attempt to overthrow their liege lords.  Still the members of house Tyrell found it prudent to secure alliances with the noble families of the Reach and for years had been intermarrying with them.

With this in mind Willas had always thought that one of these houses, or if lucky several, would be willing to allow him to court their daughter or sister.  

Several years passed and Willas was now approaching his two-and-twenty name day.  His brother Garlan had recently married lady Leonette Fossoway and the two were on a post wedding tour of the lands surrounding Highgarden before returning to their new home there.

During the time leading up to the wedding Willas found himself becoming even more taciturn than usual around others.  A quiet man by nature, much like his mother, he was only open the most with family members.  The marriage of a second son before the heir felt in many ways as another indictment of his suitability in the eyes of the Tyrell bannermen.

Willas did not want to admit it but he was a jealous man.  His brothers had taken well to knighthood.  Garlan was far better at the melee than he could ever dream to be and Loras was the best horseman of the trio.  Like most things about him, it burned quietly inside most of the time.  With both of his brothers gone from Highgarden he felt a slight reprieve.  Only to feel ashamed at his own feelings.

Leaving the small private sept the members of house Tyrell used in the gardens, not the large ornate one in the castle complex, Willas came across his mother.

“Willas,” Lady Tyrell called to him.  “The gardeners have put in a new selection of white roses not far from here.  Would you care to view them with me?”

“Certainly mother.”

The two Tyrells made their way through the myriad of flowers, most of which had been in bloom recently.  Their fragrance filling the late morning air.

When they arrived Lady Tyrell examined the flowers before turning to her son.

“You’ve been a little… short with your brother and his lady wife recently.  For that matter you’ve been short with all of us recently.”

Willas looked down at the gravel path sheepishly.

“All I ask is that you be the young man I know you are once again.  She is your sister now and you should treat her just as you would Margaery.  Being short with her, for something that is not her own doing, is not the way the Willas I know would act.”

“You know I only wish Garlan and Leonette the best mother.”

“I do, you should also act the best for them as well.”  Alerie knew her son’s source of pain, though he thought it was something he hid well.  Being without a wife weighed on him, the reasoning by which most of his offers were denied heightened the pain.

Willas nodded and smiled ruefully at his mother.

“You’re never going to stop correcting me are you?”

“Only when you need it.” Came her half serious, half teasing reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, this is the first story I've written since way back in grade school for an assignment, it has been a while. I've never written anything just because before and it has been really fun to see this grow. Overall the story is turning out much longer than I had originally anticipated.
> 
> This story is something that has been batting around in my head for over a year now when I came upon the plot the wed Sansa to Willas. Only in the past few months have I started putting it down. It's interesting because I've never read the books and have only read the wiki's for the books and show in addition to watching whatever clips I could online. I hope everything seems to be in line with the source material.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts

Sansa Stark was quite anxious to catch her first view of the capital. Just as they crested a hill the city came into view. Having passed through ever increasing large towns on the journey south she still was still amazed at the size of the city before her.

“Look!” she exclaimed to her sister. “There it is. It’s perfect.”

Arya’s face scrunched up. “It looks like a dirty old city.”

“It does not. It’s _King’s_ Landing. Why would it look dirty?” Sansa declared dreamily.

“I don’t know.” Arya shrugged her shoulders. “It just does.”

“Why must you complain about everything Arya?”

“It’s not complaining. It’s the truth.”

Sansa did not know it at the time but she would come to hate the capital even more than her sister. The capital represented everything she would come to hate. The veneer of pleasantness that hid the ruthless nature of many of the members of court. The gilded cage she stayed in after she was forced from the Tower of the Hand when the executioner took her father’s head. The fact that Arya was missing was a source of hope and worry for her. Her sister had always been the wild one. If anyone could survive without their family it was Arya. With the help of the gods she may even have safely returned to her brother and mother. 

She knew that Robb was heading south. The rebellion was on everyone’s lips in the Red Keep. They called him the Young Wolf and Sansa prayed every day to the gods, old and new that he would rescue her. It seemed the gods had other plans however. Sansa was humiliated in front of the court. After a victory by her brother she was beaten and stripped half naked by the kingsguard.

Instead she prays for an escape, whatever form that may be, from the gods. They cannot deny her that. Not after all she’s been through.

* * *

Sansa was in the middle of reading a book of poetry when the summons arrived. Sansa has to stretch out her sore back when she stands. The usual Lannister guards flanked her as she walked to the dining hall. As she approached the hall she was surprised to see Ser Loras waiting for her at the door. Even knowing she was about to be in the presence of the king again she was pleased to see Loras. He was, after all, quite handsome and knightly.

Loras bowed deeply. “My lady Sansa.” He said while extending his arm for her with a smile. “Please allow me to escort you.”

For a moment she was able to feel happy and free again. Upon entering the hall with Loras that moment ended however and Sansa adopted the stoic facade she had been using these long months in King’s Landing.

In the dining hall were several members of the Tyrell party along with the King. Lady Margaery sat closest to the King, something Sansa was silently grateful for, and was describing the different types of food present at the table from the Reach. Also present was the dour looking woman she knew was referred to as the Queen of Thornes. With only a look at her Sansa could already sense why she was given such an infamous title. Instead of being placed by the King, Loras led his charge to a place next to Leonette, Garlan’s wife.

Thankfully the King did not so much as glance at Sansa as she entered the room. Instead it was Garlan that spoke first to her. “Lady Sansa, allow me to introduce myself. I am Garlan of house Tyrell, and this is my lady wife Leonette.”

Sansa smiled back at both Garlan and Leonette and replied. “A pleasure my lord. Please accept my thanks for your invitation.”

“Oh, that wasn’t me my lady.” Garlan said while turning to his sister. “Lady Margaery was most interested in getting to know the lady who is betrothed to our King.”

Margaery smiled sweetly at Sansa. “Yes. It is my hope that we can become fast friends Sansa.”

“I.. I would like that Lady Margaery.”

Joffrey eyed the exchanged between the two. Not enjoying having Margaery’s attention somewhere other than himself he asked her the first thing that came to his mind.

“Well there is my Lord father Mace, you met him earlier, and my Lady mother Alerie.” For a moment Margaery’s face falls a bit, “She is a lovely woman and I do miss her dearly. The Queen,” she continues smiling once more, “has been a most gracious host. I feel like she is someone I can come to see as a second mother or one day.”

“Yes, mother is quite good at that. She’s always telling me that a King should be regal, but still approachable by his subjects.”

“Wise words indeed my King.” Margaery simpers. 

“Garlan here”, she motions to the man sitting next two spots down from Sansa, “is my second eldest brother, and quite the swordsman. He led the vanguard against Stannis Baratheon.”

Joffrey sat back in his chair and glanced over to Garlan with a mix of jealousy and feigned aloofness at the mention of Garlan’s actions.

Margaery quickly continued, “That allowed you, of course, to drive the usurper into the sea.”

“Mmm, yes.” Putting on a regal pose, “You have my and the kingdoms thanks ser Garlan.” The king said.

“Loras, my youngest brother, is a fine horseman. Perhaps you have heard of him before?”

“The Knight of Flowers? Yes. Though, I think my uncle Jaime to be a match for him.”

Loras looked up from his cup for a moment but did not speak. “Of course Your Grace”, came Margaery’s reply, “Ser Jaime is renowned across all of Westeros.”

“Our oldest brother, Willas, could not come with us. He remains in Highgarden and is overseeing the Reach in our father’s stead.”

“Willas..” Joffrey swirled his cup slightly “He’s the cripple right?”

At this the Tyrell siblings stiffened in their chair for a moment. Garlan and leonette shared a look while Loras took to staring at his plate.

Margaery cocked her head to the side. “Willas has a bad leg my King. He was injured in a tourney by one of the Martells. The one called the viper.” Sansa noticed the slight hint of disdain laced into her voice when the ruling family of Dorne was mentioned. Did the Tyrells and the Martells not like each other? Sansa supposed that would make sense, given how one had injured another.

The King, looking for some way to show that he was better than at least one of the Tyrell men continued. “He’s what? Five and twenty? And unmarried. “

“Four and Twenty, Your Grace. Willas is pious man and sets an example that we should all strive for. Do you agree Your Grace.”

“I do Lady Margaery. It is good to know that you have such… noble and good men for brothers. It is also good to know that I, in turn, have such men for subjects.” Looking at Sansa for the first time that evening with contempt in his glare, “The gods know it’s better than traitors for brothers.”

Sansa lowered her head at the last remark. Part of her wanted to rage, wanted to shout that Robb was more of king than Joffrey ever would be. Instead she counted the golden lions on her dinner plate.

Margaery and Joffrey continued their conversation. Margaery maintained the air of nothing less than complete interest in whatever Joffrey said.

Sansa continued to eat in silence. Lady Olenna seemed to have taken an interest in observing her while she ate. Sansa only managed to glance at her from the corner of her eyes. Yes, she could see why the woman had a reputation.

It was lady Leonette who broke the silence on their end of the table.

“So tell me lady Sansa.” The smaller woman said turning to Sansa, all smiles. “How long have you been in the capital?”

“Just over a year.”

“You are from Winterfell, correct?”

At this Sansa continence changed. Instead of a merely guarded girl a completely stoic one took her place.

“Yes.”

“What is it like that far north?” “I imagine it is quite cold during the winter.”

“Yes it does. It is a land of traitors though, so it seems fitting that they live in a land that is so inhospitable.”

Lady Leonette went back to eating for a while and the silence between to two women was awkward.

Not wanting to let her first meeting with the younger woman leave on such an awkward note Leonette tried again.

“Do you know of any good music rooms in the Red Keep?”

“I cannot say. I usually spend my time in my rooms, or the godswood, or even sometimes the gardens.” 

The rest of the dinner went about without any further interaction between Sansa and Joffrey. Sansa exchanged pleasantries with lady Leonette and her husband. Both seemed to be friendly and Sansa wished she could speak freely with them. Such liberties were dangerous she knew, so she kept her words guarded.

When the meal concluded Joffrey offered to escort Lady Margaery back to her rooms. The young woman happily agreed and left with the King, glancing over her shoulder at Sansa with a look she could not place.

As Sansa made her way to the door the Lannister guards moved to fall in behind her. She did her best to ignore them. Instead acting as if they were not there or that they were to protect her, not keep an eye on her for the Queen. Instead lady Olenna who stepped forward to meet her before the guards did.

“Walk with me won’t you Sansa? I’m afraid my manner left me during dinner and I did not speak with you.” Taking Sansa’s hand in her own and patting it. “These things happen when you get to be my age.”

The hulking two guards fell in behind Olenna and held their ground as the two Lannister men made to get closer to the two women. Sana could not help but look back at the slight commotion happening as the four men battled for position in the hallway like men at a polite melee.

Lady Olenna saw were the younger woman was looking.

“Do be dears”, the old woman said turning in place, “and keep your distance. You’re disturbing the poor girl.”

At this the two in green stopped completely, turning and crossing their arms. This prevented the Lannister men from continuing down the hall.

“I call them the Left and the Right. Since I can’t make heads or tails over which one is which. Still,” she leaned down whispering in a way Sansa imagined a grandmother would, “It’s good to have a little muscle around.”

Sansa nodded mutely, not knowing what to say. What did this woman want from her? She was a daughter and sister of traitors. The two continued down the hall and Sansa realized that they were heading to her own rooms.

* * *

When Sansa awoke the sun was already up and pouring into her bedroom through the large bay doors that led to the balcony. Sansa took some solace in the fact that the same sun shone on her mother and brother, wherever they were. She just prayed it would do so tomorrow.

She rose and started her usual routine. Bathing and braiding her hair with the help of the new handmaid, courtesy of the Queen, before breaking her fast in her solar. When dressing she selected a purple dress. All clothing she had in colors that could be viewed as northern where in the back of her wardrobe now.

After finishing her meal, more like nibbling at it these days, she prepared to go to the godswood. It was one of the few places she could go without the whispering or stares. She sometimes thought the people who ignored her were worse. She would imagine what they were saying about her even though they did not look at her. _Traitor, unworthy to marry the king._ She just knew they thought these things, everyone did.

She was finishing getting dressed when a knock sounded from her door. The maid answered it; sticking her head out through a crack in the door so Sansa could not see who it was. The door closed once more, “Lady Leonette has asked that you accompany her milady.”, the maid said returning to Sansa.

Lady Leonette? The Tyrells? Why would they want to associate with her more than they had too? The king regularly ate with her, if only to torment her over something her brother had done. So dinning with both the Tyrells and the king was not uncommon. She had expected them to show her the same amount of disdain as others.

“Good morning!” Greeted a smiling Leonette. “I’ve found the perfect music room and I had hoped to share it with you.” Leonette motioned down the hall. “Shall we?”

The smaller woman led Sansa through the corridors to a small room with instruments that Sansa had never been in before.

Leonette walked over to the harp that sat by the window.

“The harp is my favorite. Both my mother and sister play. There is a small pavilion in the gardens back home that we would sometimes play in when we had guests. Do you play Sansa? May I call you Sansa?”

“I don’t mind.” She lowered her head. “And I.. I do not play. Any instrument that is.” She added after a pause.

Leonette reached out to Sansa. “Would you like to learn? It would be such a pleasant diversion while my husband and his family are away.”

Sansa smiled and nodded. “My Septa said music is becoming for a lady. We never had instruments in Winterfell though.”

“Well you can learn now.”

Sansa spends the rest of the morning and past midday being introduced to the harp. Along the way she learns about Leonette and a little about her husband and their home in Highgarden. When her husband comes and they make to leave Sansa is disappointed to see them go. Leonette, seeing the slightly melancholic expression of the girl promises to continue the lessons and they plan to meet again every other day.

Sansa returns to her rooms and plans to visit the godswood the next day. All the while she hoped no ravens arrive with news of her brothers’ demise.

* * *

Margaery was the one who visited the next day. Sansa received her in the small solar attached to her rooms.

“These rooms are quite lovely.” The Tyrell girl proclaimed as she spun around. “And you have such a perfect view of Blackwater Bay. It’s so exciting to see the ocean is it not? There is nothing like it Highgarden, just miles and miles of flowers.”

For the first time Sansa felt a pang of pity for Margaery. She too once thought the same of King's Landing. But no more. Highgarden however sounded like something from a dream. A very pleasant dream.

“I think that sounds perfect. So many flowers. It sounds like a dream. In the north only the pine trees grow in abundance.”

“Oh don’t think that Highgarden isn’t beautiful, it is. It’s just nice to see something new and different for a change.”

Margaery moved to a settee by the window. Sitting down gracefully by Sansa she looked over at her with an exuberant expression. “You must tell me. What is it like to be betrothed to the king? She smirked “He’s quite handsome.”

Sansa hoped Margaery did not notice the way she paled slightly when Joffrey was mentioned.

“It is an honor to be his betrothed. Joffrey is my one true love and I am honored, even though my father and brother covet his birthright, he has not set me aside.”

Margaery leaned closer to Sansa. “I’ve heard he is quite gallant that he led the defenses of King’s Landing with skill against the usurper.” Sansa was startled when she realized she was speaking to the widow of Renly Baratheon, a man who also was viewed as a traitor. “Not that I mean ill against your husband, Lady Margaery. I.. It must be quite sad to lose your love. I thought Lord Renly was quite gallant himself.”

Margaery looked to her hands folded in her lap. “Yes, yes he was. Mother and father liked him as well. But let us not speak of such things.” She said smiling once more as she stood up. “Some of my cousins are sewing in the gardens. Would you care to join us?”

Sansa returned the smile. “I would like to. Thank you Lady Margaery.”

“Please.” She said helping Sansa to her feet. “Call me Margaery and I shall call you Sansa.”

As they made their way to the door Margaery quipped. “I can tell we will be the best of friends Sansa.”


	3. An Opportunity

The Tyrell’s had been placed in the Maidens Vault of the Red Keep. It was lavishly adorned in red and golds only, no black. Something the Tyrells had wondered about amongst themselves. The queen mother must have the ear of king. That or he had no interest in the colors that were displayed in the Red Keep.

By the fireplace Lady Olenna was holding a family meeting.

“Mace.” She scowled at her son. “Since House Baratheon of King’s Landing seems bent of draping everything in reds and golds don’t you think it would be advantageous to have some garments in the same colors?”

Her son looked confused for a moment before replying.

“I suppose.” His expression brightened as he rose from his seat. “Yes. That sounds like an idea. It may help when I explain why we need the new tax on barge traffic.”

Lady Olenna gave a look of mock surprise at his suggestion. “See, I knew there were some brains in your head yet. Run along. If you visit the tailor now you may have something ready in a fortnight.”

Having missed his mother’s insult Lord Tryrell hurried from the room with his mother’s eyes following him.

Margaery gave her grandmother a knowing look. “You shouldn’t tease him so grandmother.

“Ha, the fat oaf deserves it. It’s too easy not to. Besides, we can’t have his bumbling interfering.”

“Garlan!” she called out for her grandson. “Fetch your pretty little wife would you. You know how much my back pains me to get up.”

Garlan soon arrived with Leonette and took place beside her on the couch.

“So, what do you think of her?”

Garlan and Leonette glanced at each other.

“Who grandmother?” Garlan asked.

“The lady Sansa.” She replied as if it were as obvious as the sun setting in the west. “The one who is betrothed to the king.”

Only the crackling of fire was heard before Garlan spoke up. “It’s obvious the king harbors no good feelings for her. Or her him I would believe.” Leonette shook her head in agreement.

“I think she’s terrified of him.” Margaery put the cup she was holding down. “She seems to flinch whenever the king is mentioned.”

Olenna looked at fire and then back to her granddaughter. “We’ll have to look into that. Rumors have reached me.”

“What kind of rumors grandmother?”

“Apparently the little brat stripped and beat her in court after her brother won a battle by the kingsguard. The boy is overcompensating for something if you ask me.”

Leonette let out a small gasp. “The poor girl. No wonder she’s fearful of everything. What kind of knights would do that?”

“The kind that break their oath and kill their king.” Garlan answered reaching for his wife’s hand. “Remember, the kingslayer still has a place in the kingsguard.”

“She’s such a sweet mannered girl. I’ve enjoyed teaching her the harp. She seems like she could do with a friend. With all the trouble going on up north.”

Olenna was unmoved by such words. “She is still in the way as long as the betrothal stands.”

“Now grandmother.” Margaery countered diplomatically. “I would hardly say lady Sansa is in the way.”

“If it is Sansa Stark who marries Joffrey, you cannot be queen.” Lady Olenna said plainly. “It is how marriage works.”

Margaery rolled her eyes at being scolded like a child.

“But what do you plan to do about that?” Garlan asked. “Margaery is a widow to a declared traitor. I don’t see how that helps her over lady Sansa.

Olenna settled herself back into the chair and took a breath as if she were about to reveal some great truth of universe.

“Sansa’s father was executed for treason. Her brother is in open rebellion to the crown and styles himself King in the North. Renly was a known degenerate”, she waived her dismissively, “here at court. We can press that Margaery is still untouched easily. With the crown short on allies and low on food the shipments we send are the only thing keeping their bellies filled. We will use that goodwill to press for an alliance. An alliance sealed by marriage to Margaery.”

Garlan got up and poked at the logs in the fire until embers shot up the chimney. “What if the rumors are true? And he is as cruel as they say.” He looked toward Margaery “I don’t like the idea of you being his queen if they are.”

“I can handle him brother, do not worry.” She smiled at him while he frowned and sat back down. “It is only a matter of knowing how to direct his attention.”

“I will invite Sansa to take lunch with me tomorrow. I’ll see what she has to say about our king.”

* * *

Margaery arranged for lunch at midday in the gardens overlooking the sea. Since learning about the Stark girls’ love for lemon cakes she made sure to have some on hand for dessert.

While she and her grandmother waited for their guest, Margaery looked around the garden. One day, should everything work out, she would be queen of all this. Not just this garden but from Dorne to the Wall. From her conversations with the king she was sure the rumors regarding his treatment of Sansa were true. He had a worrying tendency to lash out at things he viewed as threatening. The glee he had displayed when he showed her all of the weapons in his room, as well as detailed descriptions of how they killed, was more than enough for her. Still, he was easy enough to control if one showed interest in his macabre pursuits.

“Sansa.” Margaery held out her hands to the approaching woman. “Come, sit. I do believe you remember my grandmother.”

“Lady Olenna.” Sansa gave a small curtsy.

Olenna gave a small laugh, though not unkindly. “Always the beacon of modesty child.”

“I believe these are your favorite." Margaery pushed a plate of lemon cakes toward Sansa. She noticed Sansa had pretended not to see them.

“Oh, yes. Lemon is such a hard fruit to come by in the north.”

“Sansa, I asked you to come because my grandmother had some questions. Questions about the king. We’ve heard some stories and..”

“They are not the pleasant type stories.” The Queen of Thornes interjected. “I would have the truth. Is Joffrey a kind man? A gentle man?”

Sansa thought about what she should say. She didn’t want to disparage the king. If word got back to Joffrey he would have her beaten again, or worse. Still when she looked at Margaery, so eager in the same way she had once been when she dreamed of a golden haired prince. Her father had taught her honor. She was a daughter of Eddard Stark. She could not hold the truth back from Margaery. She was friends with her. Margaery and all the Tyrells that had come with her had helped her feel some amount of friendship while she was separated from her family.

“Joffrey took my father’s head.” Tears formed in her eyes. “He took me up onto the walls. And he made me look at it. He promised to show my father mercy. He did _that_ and called it mercy.”

Margaery took a napkin from the table and handed it to Sansa to dab her eyes.

“I do not mean to pry.” She began carefully. “We also heard that he beat you. In front of the court.”

Sansa sunk her head down. “He’s a monster.”

Lady Olenna let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, that’s a shame.” She stood up and walked over to Sansa. “You have my sympathies child.” Placing her hand on the younger's’ shoulder.

Margaery watched her grandmother leave while Sansa placed the napkin back on the table. Yes, it was a pity that the king was a monster. Still if it meant she was queen she would feign interest in his choice of fancy for the moment. She may not even need bed him. He seemed to be uninterested in it. In a way that reminded her of Willas. Willas gave the air of disinterest of women. Though having been turned down, usually politely, by the various houses of the Reach may have more to do with it. He always did prefer more solitary pursuits in his free time though.

“What are you smiling at?”

“Oh, I was just thinking of my brother. He use to cheer me up when I was little and something was bothering me. All this talk of such.. unpleasantness has me wishing he were here.”

“I can go look for Ser Garlan for you.”

“Oh.” She held out her hand to stop Sansa. “No. I was not speaking of Garlan. I meant Willas. And don’t bother trying to find him. He’s still in Highgarden. I wonder what he’s doing now. Probably everything father has been neglecting for the past two months.”

Margaery smiled again. “There was the one time. I was upset over something.” She shook her head. “I can’t remember what it was now, most likely the silliest thing. And Willas gave me a picture the next day of the stars. It was the constellation that I could see from my window. He told me that I could look and the picture and use it to point out the stars to draw the same image in my mind.”

“I remember Robb giving me some small bells for Lady after Arya and I had been arguing. She smiled at the memory and vowed that they would one day be a family again. “He said it was better that I listen to the bells than what Arya had been yelling.”

“Older brothers do seem to know how to cheer us up don’t they?”

Sansa nodded in agreement.

“I think Willas would like you.”

“What?”

“How could he not. You are a beautiful young woman. You are highborn. You are sweet and gentle and kind. Yes, how could Willas not like you.”

At this the girl blushed slightly.

“I don’t know.. I’ve never met your brother.”

“Sansa don’t you see?” She reaches out to hold Sansa’s hands in her own. “You were made for Highgarden. You should be amongst the flowers there.”

Margaery watched as the images of beautiful flowers began to form in Sansa’s head.

“Highgarden sits near the Mander. We have lovely barges that sail up and down the river with most exquisite views you have ever seen. Willas keeps a kennel as well and gave Loras and me puppies when we were little.”

“Puppies?” The thought made her long for Lady. A dog would not be the same, but it was something right?

Margaery smiled.

“Willas is still unmarried. It does pain me so to see him alone. And I would love to call you sister one day.”

“Why is he not married?”

Margaery paused for a moment before answering.

“His leg. Most of the lords in the Reach do not wish their daughters to marry a cripple. Not that I consider Willas crippled mind you. He just has a bad leg.”

“My brother Bran cannot… _could_ not walk. But I still love him.” Sansa pondered for a while before continuing. “Willas is a knight? Like Ser Loras and Ser Garlan?”

“Oh yes, all my brothers are knights. Though, Willas no longer goes by his knightly title. Not since the accident. You really should visit Highgarden.”

Sansa mulled over this new information for a moment. It all sounded so perfect. And she would love to be away from King's Landing, the King and the queen mother.

“It sounds perfect.” Her face fell a little. “But I don’t think I can leave the capital. If your brother wanted me to visit that is.” She added quickly.

“He would be foolish not to. Not with a recommendation from me.” She rose and led Sansa to another part of the garden. “Come, my cousins can tell you all about the time we snuck away to swim in the river.”


	4. Forced Hand

That evening Sansa finished combing out her hair by herself. Having sent the handmaid away earlier. She had been thinking about what Margaery and the other Tyrell girls had told her. The Reach did sound like a dream. Part of her mind whispered that so did the south and King’s Landing not long ago. A grand capital ruled over by a king and a fair haired queen. Whose equally fair haired son would one day inherit. She had dreamed of being that prince’s queen once. No longer.

As she turned the covers for her bed down and climbed in she thought of Willas, Margaery’s brother.

“Willas.” She said to herself softly in the growing darkness.

“Willas.”

It was a nice sounding name. She imagined he looked something like his brother. If he looked like Ser Loras that was nice. Ser Garlan was comely as well.

The blonde haired children she had once dreamed became brown haired, some with curls like Ser Loras. She would give them good northern names, strong names. Names like Eddard and Brandon and Rickon.

* * *

Across the Red Keep the Tyrells were gathering once more around the fireplace. Lady Olenna had again dispatched her son on a fool’s errand to rid herself of his bumbling.

“A monster?” Garlan said. “She called him a monster?”

“Yes.” His grandmother added in an uninterested tone as she looked off into the fire.

“I do not like this Margaery.”

“I told you, I am more than capable of handling His Graces’ outburst.” His sister replied.

“I think you’re playing with fire. And don’t particularly care.”

Garlan stood next to his wife on the couch shaking his head.

“Enough about me.” She looked to lady Olenna. “What do you think about lady Sansa.”

“A pretty girl with a famous name.”

“Yes, but what else.”

“She seems biddable enough. I can see why the little twat can push her around as he does.”

Margaery pursed her lips.

“What about you Leonette?” She asked her goodsister kindly.

“She’s a good young woman and I’ve greatly enjoyed our time together. In many respects she’s the embodiment of the maiden.”

The Queen of Thornes huffed at her grandson’s wife.

“The maiden, ha. What good did her _maidenly_ charms do her father.”

“Now grandmother we all can’t be like you. You’d have no one to show off too.”

“Don’t try to flatter me.”

“I think she has some good sense about her.” Margaery continued. “When we were discussing the queen, one of the few times I was able to talk to her about Cersei, she said she tried to convince the Queen that her father was delirious from milk-of-the-poppy. See grandmother.” She looked pointedly toward the older woman. “She did not completely keel over to them.”

“This is all rather interesting but what is the point?”

“What about Willas?”

“Willas?” Garlan spoke up. “Margaery, What does Willas have to do with this?”

“Sansa is so unhappy here Garlan. Think of what she would be like it Highgarden. I know she would love it there.”

Garlan narrowed his eyes at his sister. Searching for whatever she was plotting at the moment.

“You mean to wed Willas to Sansa?”

Margaery turned to her grandmother for support. “Just think grandmother. Willas would finally get a wife you’ve been pressing for. She will easily be the most eligible he’s been offered. With her own father being a lord paramount. She’s very much like him, quiet and studious. I think he will like her.”

Margaery’s tone changed from light hearted and airy to serious in a flash.

“It would also give us something to hang over the Lannisters or the Starks no matter who wins.”

The grey haired matron looked at her granddaughter and laughed. Knowing full well there was a greater reason for wanting Sansa out of the way that she did not mention.

“I suppose you’re right. Good thing you have more of whit’s from the females of the family. I think she’s too young though.”

“What do you think Garlan?”

Garlan’s mind went from looking out for his sister to his brother.

“Grandmother’s right, she is young. I can’t imagine Willas being happy if we show up back home with a girl of three and ten and introduce her as his betrothed.”

“She’s confided in me that she has flowered.” Margaery quickly countered. “She’s quite nervous about the Queen Regent finding out. Besides, she’s rather tall for a woman. Willas couldn’t want for a prettier bride.”

“I don’t think he’d take issue with her height or looks. Just her age.”

“Do you really want her to stay here Garlan?” Margaery began to appeal to her brothers’ gallantry. “And leave her to the schemes of the Queen and her father? Yes she is young. But think of the woman she will grow into. She will be like mother, a good Lady of Highgarden.”

Leonette looked up to her husband. “Lady Sansa is sweet young woman. Surely it couldn't hurt to at least introduce them. You know Willas could do with the company.”

“Father or Mother usually arranged introductions with potential matches in the past.” Garlan ran a hand through his hair. “It just feels odd to be discussing this ourselves. He’s my brother, my _older_ brother, not my ward.”

“Didn’t Willas help you when you courted Leonette?” Margaery queried.

“Giving me advice on what flowers to give her or what sweets she would like are not the same as showing up with a girl and saying, _here’s a girl I found in King’s Landing, you may like her_.”

“Margaery is right.” The elderly matron spoke up. “Willas isn’t going to get married at the rate he’s going.”

“He’s not an invalid grandmother.” Garlan said before being waved off. “You normally say he’s the best of father’s male children.”

“It’s settled!” Margaery clasped her hands together happily. “I’ll ask her myself what she thinks when we meet tomorrow. We are going to visit the market.”

Garlan sighed and turned to watch the rising moon and hoped that whatever might come, Willas would not be too angry with him.

* * *

The sounds of the wharf were a pleasant distraction from the incessant hushed whispers Sansa was used to in the Red Keep. Sansa and Margaery had made a round of the different market stalls that morning and had selected some choice pieces of fruit. Margaery had taught Sansa how to spot the best ones, drawing on her knowledge from living in the Reach. “Flowers and fruit. She had smiled at Sansa. “I would be a poor reflection of my house if I could not tell the best from all the others.”

They soon found a bench overlooking the bay. Spreading out some of the fruit they had purchased Sansa picked an apple and began to cut it open.

“I could write to him you know.” Margaery began. “Or you could yourself. Willas would love to hear from a lady such as yourself.”

A slight blush crept up Sansa’s face. “I don’t know.. what would I say?”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just give him a tease, that’s all.”

Sansa’s forehead wrinkled. “What do you mean?”

“You can’t just give him everything about you at once. You see men enjoy the chase. It makes them feel important. So you just give a man enough to whet his interest and let him do the rest of the work.”

“That sounds dishonest.” Sansa was a Stark and if anything she was honest, like her father.

“I’m not saying lie to him.” Margaery popped a grape in her mouth. “Just don’t tell him your life’s story all at once. I makes courting so much more interesting.” She added with a smirk.

“I’m not very good at that.” Sansa looked up with questioning glance. “How do you know all this? Did your mother or septa teach you? My septa never mentioned courting was like that.”

Margaery gave Sansa a bemused smile. “Yes, Sansa my mother taught me.”

Sansa sat and looked at her plate for a while. Margaery figured now was the time to press her question. Hopefully she would agree. It was the perfect solution. The path would be clear for her to get to Joffrey, a pretty bride for her brother, and mayhaps a friend. Though the last was not the most important reason.

“Sansa.. Instead of writing my brother. Would you be agreeable to traveling to Highgarden in person? The harvest festival is nearing. Everyone spends weeks preparing for it. Willas would be honored to have you in attendance.”

“I don’t think the queen would let me.”

Margaery continued to press.

“Oh, nonsense. You would be our guest. Our house is supplying the capital with food. She wouldn’t dare go against letting my friend visit my home.” She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. “And if a certain friend should admire a certain brother of mine.” She finished by raising her eyebrows.

Sansa chewed on her lower lip before answering. This could get her out of King’s Landing. She could also help mother and Robb. Robb would thank her wouldn’t he? The Tyrells had food in abundance to barter for. Or maybe he would make more of an effort to get her. She had been crushed when his army turned west instead of marching south like she’d hoped they would.

She made her decision and drew in a breath. “When could we go?”

Margaery squealed in joy. “Oh, I knew you’d agree. I’ll speak to grandmother, and Garlan. We wouldn’t want you traveling without a decent escort now would we?”

* * *

While Sansa and Margaery finished their meal by the sea, one of the dock workers took a final look at the girls before hurrying off away from them and back to the city. The man made his way to his employer’s residence. Once at the door he knocked the agreed upon three times and waited. When the latch on the inside was released and the door opened slightly he slipped in.

“You have something?” The mustached man asked.

The poorly clothed man bowed. “Yes milord. The Tyrells, they plan to take lady Sansa to Highgarden. They want her for their heir.”

Littlefinger withdrew a bag of silver and counted out five silver coins before handing them over. “Use my establishment next time. I’ll offer a discount next time.”

As the dockworker left Petyr Baelish quickly ran through his options. He could not allow Catelyn’s daughter out of King’s Landing. Her brother’s rebellion, while successful early on was bound to fail. If the plans that had been set in motion succeeded. He had his own plans for the girl who looked so much like her mother. And they did not rest with the Tyrells.

* * *

Lady Olenna walked through the gardens. As it was late in the day there was nothing else to do. They didn’t meet her standard though. Even her oaf of a son had more sense when it came to managing the great gardens that surrounded the seat of house Tyrell. As she turned a corner the Eunuch seemed to come out of a bush before her.

“Come to sweep me off my feet?”

“I’m afraid I don’t deal in that particular arena.”

“Ha! Of course you don’t.”

The two fell into a comfortable pace through the many rows of shrubs.

“I see you’ve taken an interest in Sansa Stark.” The man stated plainly, if he even be could be called a man still.

“Why would I not take an interest when my granddaughter has befriended her?”

“I had hoped we had a.. similar view on her future. Here in the capital it’s rather dim. I admired her father and tried to help him. I would - “

“Her father was a fool. Only an idiot stands in front of the king and says he’s a bastard with no right to rule.”

“Yes, but that does not change the fact that his daughter is still here to pick up the pieces he dropped. As I said I could not help her father but I would help her.”

“Come now. We both know you’re not concerned for the girl. At least not completely. Tell me what is it you want?”

“Sansa stark is, if you’ll forgive me, surrounded by wolves.”

“Lions more like it.”

“An apt choice of words my lady. But she has also caught the attention of a most dangerous man. A man who over the course of a few years, amassed wealth, lands and titles. All he needs is an army at his back and he can make a bid for the iron throne. I do so tire of this constant bickering of that old chair. It would be a shame to see another part of the realm brought into this conflict.”

“And what do I have to do with this.” Lady Olenna turned to Varys. “Future you would like to not see?”

“My birds in the south tell me a certain grandson of yours’s is an amenable match for the girl.”

“So you’re a match maker now are you? A bit of a change for the Master of Whispers don’t you think?”

The Spider bowed. “I am many things milady and it would please me greatly to see lady Sansa happy.” He intoned.

“Explain. No more minced words.”

“If I know of your plans, Lady Olenna, so does Littlefinger. He _will_ tell the Lannisters and they _will_ marry Sansa off to one of their supporters.”

Lady Olenna looked down at the pebble strewn path before saying.

“When will they know?”

“Tonight I imagine. The Hand of the King dines with Lord Baelish once a week.”

Olenna grimaced.

“Do not fret my lady. I believe I have a possible solution. The gold cloaks have such honorable intentions upholding the king’s peace. But they are paid such penitence. The guards at the King’s Gate were most grateful to receive something extra to look the other way while a possible Tyrell host left the city at sundown on urgent business in Highgarden.”

Lady Olenna looked up into the sky. The sun was well on its way down on the horizon. She turned and quickly made her way out of the garden in search of her grandson. If she believed in the seven like the rest of most of her family she would have said a prayer to the Warrior for victory in the coming hours.

* * *

Garlan was sparring with some of the guardsmen that had accompanied them from the Reach when his grandmother found him.

“Garlan, come with me.” Olenna walked past the practice field continuing on to their quarters.

Garlan was a bit taken back by her lack of insults. Something must have happened. It couldn’t be Leonette, no he’d just seen her an hour ago. She didn’t seem that distraught, just hurried. Then again would she even be distraught if something happened to his wife?

He jogged to catch up with her. “Grandmother?” he asked cautiously.

“You’re leaving tonight, for Highgarden.” She did not even look back at him.

“Why, what’s happened. Is it Willas?” Horror stuck him for a moment. He hadn’t considered his brother. Had he fallen ill or worse died? Was he the heir now and they wanted him safe?

“No, it’s not Willas. It’s Sansa.” Garlan was confused now.

“The Lannisters know what we have planned. They are going to marry her to one of them to keep her in King’s Landing and have a hold over the North.”

They had reached his and Leonettes quarters. He opened the door to find Leonette penning a letter, presumably for someone at home.

“Garlan!” Leonette rose and approached her husband. “Is something the matter?”

He looked to his grandmother and motioned for her to continue.

“I want to you leave immediately. Go to lady Sansa and get her out of the city. Leave by way of the King’s Gate, the guards have been bought to let you out.”

Leonette gave her husband a confused look.

“The Lannisters know.” he said. They won’t let her leave.”

“But they’ll find out. Know that she’s in the Reach.”

The Queen of Thorns spoke. “They won’t do anything. Tywin can fume in private all he wants. I’ll handle him. It can’t be any worse than your father.”

“Pack your traveling cloak.” Garlan said to his wife. “And bring a second one for lady Sansa as well. Meet me by the stables.”

Leonette quickly changed into traveling clothes and selected the largest spares she had for Sansa, she hoped the girl could fit into them, before racing to meet her husband.


	5. Fly Little Bird

Sansa had just enjoyed her bath and was selecting a book to take to bed when a knock sounded from her door. She got up to answer it, having dismissed her handmaid already for the night.

The young woman opened the door slightly and peered out. Before her stood Lady Leonette dressed in what appeared to be traveling clothes. Was she leaving? She appeared to hold another set in her hands. Behind her stood her husband and several Tyrell guards.

“Lady Leonette, are you leaving?”

“May I come in for a moment Sansa?”

The redhead opened the door wider and allowed Leonette and Ser Garlan to enter.

“Sansa.” The older woman laid the extra cloths on the table in the room. “The Lannisters have discovered our plan to take you to Highgarden.”

The girl blanched at the thought of the lions finding out. What would they do? Would they take her head like her father?

“If we are to make it there without them knowing we’ve left with you we must go now.” She took hold of Sansa’s hands. “You do wish to go?”

Sansa swallowed. “Yes.” She whispered. “I will go.”

Leonette offered her a small smile. “Here you will need these.” Pointing to the clothes she had been carrying. “I’ll help you dress. We’ll need to put your hair back. A red haired maiden is likely to draw notice.”

She led Sansa back to the bedroom and helped her out of her nightgown and into the traveling cloak. It was a snug fit as Sansa was taller than she, taller than most girls her age even.

As leonette finished the lacing on the back of the garment Sansa handed her some ribbon to pin her hair up and back. Leonete gathered it up with her hands. “You have such beautiful hair Sansa.” She said in an attempt to break the silence and help calm the girl.

“Thank you.” Sansa replied, though Leonette could hear the slight tremor in her voice.

Sansa picked up the cloak and put it on. She turned and looked to the room she was in. It had all of the things she had brought with her from Winterfell. Clothes, some jewelry and supplies for sewing her dresses. Leonette followed where the girl's’ eyes went. She came up to Sansa and put her hands on her arms. “We can send a servant to pack it up and bring it with us by cart. It won’t arrive with us at the same time though.”

Sansa nodded slightly. She picked up a small sling bag. “Can I carry some things? Just this bag. It’s all I have left from home.” Leonette frowned slightly. “Alight, not much though.”

She watched as Sansa picked up a small box, most likely containing jewelry she thought and placed it in the pouch. Sansa moved to the chair by her bed and slowly picked up a doll. After studying it for a moment she placed it in the bag with the box.

When she had secured the sling around her shoulders she returned to Leonette and they entered the main room where Ser Garlan stood ready with his hand on the sword at his side.

“Lady Sansa.” He said while bowing. “I apologize for the suddenness of all this. It would be my honor to escort you, my lady, to Highgarden.”

Sansa smiled. It was not Robb coming to rescue her. But her dreams of being rescued by a knight, a truly gallant knight, were unfolding.

They exited the rooms she had been staying into the hallway. There the Tyrell men stood looking down either ends of the hall for trouble.

Leonette raised Sansa’s cloak over her head. Making sure to keep all of the red hair underneath covered. She looked into Sansa’s eyes.

“While we are on the road it would be best for you to stay out of sight if possible and not speak to anyone. You will be my handmaid and your name is Rose. Understand?” Sansa bit her lip and agreed.

The party made their way through the Red Keep with efficiency. When they emerged into the chill of the night Sansa could see even more men waiting on horseback for them. The banners of house Tyrell clear from where she approached.

Garlan helped Sansa up onto a speckled horse before seeing to his lady wife on Sansa’s left. Sansa looked about somewhat helplessly. When Leonette saw she leaned toward Sansa and asked. “Do you know how to ride?”

“A little, I’m not the best. My brothers are much better.” She said apologetically.

Leonette reached down to grasp the lead for Sansa’s horse and tied it around her own saddle.

The armed riders formed a circle around the women. Sansa thought there must have been nearly twenty-five men in total. They set off with a whistle from Ser Garlan.

* * *

Making their way through the streets of King’s Landing was not difficult. Most of the city was settling down for the night. The only light was from the torches the riders carried as well as those positioned along the street.

The King’s Gate rose up before them out of the rest of the wall. To Sansa it seemed a last sentinel, to keep her bound to the capital. Beyond its gates lay freedom. She found her heart started to beat faster as the gold cloaks game into view. They were scattered around a fire to keep themselves warm against the night air.

Several of the city watch moved toward them as they brought their horses to a stop by the gate. Sansa made a point to keep her head down and fiddled with the edge of her saddle.

“What is your business my lord.” One of the men addressed Garlan.

“My retinue and I are leaving for Highgarden. I have urgent business to attend to there.”

“A bit late to be going outside the city. Roads aren’t too safe this time of the night.”

“As I said, it is urgent.”

Sansa looked up through her eyelashes to find the man looking in her and Leonette’s direction.

“Traveling with women.” He whistled low. “That’s mighty dangerous.”

Garlan walked his horse up to the man. “The gate, if you would be so kind.” He said through gritted teeth.

The watchman called back into a shack by the wall. “Captain! This lot wants to leave the city.”

Sansa watched as Ser Garland and several knights placed their hands on their swords. Sansa met Leonette eyes and saw the same worry she felt in them.

A man then emerged from the shack.

“Let them through.”

“Captain?”

“I said let them _through_ . And they were _not_ here.”

Garlan and the others relaxed slightly at this.

The portcullis rattled as it was raised. Sansa felt her fear being replaced with excitement. She was going to be free! Next the gate opened, groaning on its massive hinges.

Garlan signaled the troop to move out through the gate. The ladies and their escort exited the city and the gates closed behind them. They moved at a swift pace. Sansa was jostled about slightly by the quickness of it all, but she could not help but smile at the freedom she felt. Even the air felt lighter outside the city.

The moved along the road past the tourney field she had attended with her father when the first arrived in King’s Landing. Sansa did not think about it long. She was free. And would one day see Robb and Mother. Willas would let her see them wouldn’t he? If she made him love her he would. She would be a good wife and give him the heirs he needed, then when he love her she could visit mother and Robb. Maybe by then Robb would have babes of his own. Cousins for her children to visit with and write to one another. She would like that.

As the city behind them grew smaller they approached a fork in the road. Soon they crossed the Blackwater Rush.

“There, the Rose Road, we’ll ride this to Highgarden.” Garlan pointed and called out to Sansa over the wind.

* * *

By the time they had entered the Kingswood the moon had risen high in the sky.

The Kingswood was the closest thing to the forest by near her home of Winterfell that she had seen since coming south. The trees here are not the great pines she is used to. A further reminder that she is far from her home in the north. There was a godswood in King’s Landing that Sansa would visit to helps fight the homesickness she would feel. Did Highgarden have a godswood as well? She hoped she would have a place to pray to the old gods as well for Robb and her mother. Perhaps the old gods would listen more for the king of the north than the seven would.

Around midnight Sansa was getting tired. She shifted, now somewhat sore already in her saddle from riding. The troop burst into a clearing and Garlan called for a halt.

“We’ll camp here for the night. Ser Raymum we need a fire going. Ser Markwell see if there is any water nearby. Ser Quenton please set up a watch, two men per hour.”

He made his way over to the two females of the group. After untying Sansa reigns from Leonetts saddle he helped his wife dismount. Then he made his way to Sansa to help her.

“Thank you ser.” Sansa said as her feet landed on the ground. It felt a bit peculiar to have something underneath her that was not moving in some fashion.

Garlan gave her a small smile before he grabbed both of the women’s bed rolls. Leonette helped her husband set out the bedding near one of the fires being set up.

Sansa, feeling a little self-conscious that everyone seemed to be doing something but her offered to help. She was the reason they were all out here at night so it seemed only fair she help prepare their beds for the night.

Garlan passed her the bed roll she was to sleep in. “My apologies maladies’ for the poor accommodations. He said in a joking voice. “We’ll have to leave at first light. I think it best to get out of the crownlands as quick as possible. With luck we will be a day ahead of anyone in the capital, should they come to look for you.”

“You don’t think anyone will come in the morning, do you?” A tint of fear was in Sansa’s voice.

“No, Margaery and grandmother should provide your excuses in the morning if needed. They’re quite good and talking their way in and out of things.”

Sansa finished her bedding and crawled into it. The ground was not comfortable, almost not bearable, but she was tired.

“Now, I suggest you get some sleep Sansa. We’ll have some more hard riding in the morning to get into the Reach.”

Sansa nodded and closed her eyes. Sleep came for her soon.

* * *

When Sansa awoke the first thing she sensed was the cold and hard ground beneath her bedding. Next was the smoke from the nearby fire that was burning down. When she moved her body chided her from sleeping in such an uncomfortable place. Groaning, she slowly got up from the ground.

Looking around it was obvious she was the last one to be up. The sun was just about to top the trees at the edge of the field they had slept in. Garlan moved toward her from his own horse he was saddling.

“Here.” He said holding something out to her. “It’s some jerky. I have a few slices of bread if you’d like instead.”

Sansa took the jerky from him, saying that it would be enough. She didn’t know how long it would take for them to get to the borders of the Reach, or to Highgarden itself.

Garlan set off the see that the rest of the men and animals were ready to continue on. Leonette approached her looking just as tired as Sansa herself felt. It would appear neither lady had slept well in the night. “Sleep well?” she asked. Sansa offered her a rueful smile in return. Leonette gave out a small laugh.

Garlan helped Sansa and Leonette onto their mounts once more and the group made their way off down the Roseroad. Around midday they stopped at a small creek they happened upon to rest and water their horses.

Sansa approached Garlan with a question. “Ser Garlan?”

Turning to her Garlan put away the water flask he had been filling. “Yes, milady?”

“How many days do you think it will take us the reach Highgarden?”

“Eager to meet Willas are we?” He smiled at her.

Sansa blushed at his comment. She had been only curious to how long the trip would be. Coming south had been several months’ worth of traveling. She didn’t think it was as far to Highgarden, but she wasn’t sure how long it would take them. Though she was no longer in the capital, she wanted to be as far away from the wretched city as possible.

“Garlan.” His wife approached with mock chastisement in her voice.

Garlan looked to the sky before answering. “I’d say just over twenty days. Provided the road is not crowded the further we get into the Reach and the weather holds.”

The mention of Willas made her think. Twenty days. In nearly a month she would be in Highgarden. Would Willas want to marry her upon arrival in the Tyrell seat? Or would he wish to court her? She hoped he would court her. It would be like knights in the songs and tails she was so fond off. He would be different than Joffrey. He had to be.

When they set off once more after the horses were watered she considered the only Tyrells she had met so far. Garlan and Loras where both knights, so was Willas to she reminded herself, and they were both true knights. Everything about them was gallant and brave. Unlike the Kingsguard who kept an oath breaker and the men who beat her in their midst. Margaery had been a friend to her in the capital and she very much liked lady Leonette. In many ways it was like having an older sister.

The group of riders made good pace through the day and stopped to rest when dusk came at the most suitable campsites they could find. Sansa’s body continued to protest the lack of fine beds she was use to in King’s Landing or Winterfell, but she persisted. Sleeping on the ground outside of the reach of the queen was preferable to doing so otherwise.

One day just after they had crested a hill outside of a town, Garlan turned to them with a smile on his face.

“Those banners.” He said pointing them out. “Are from house Appleton. We are in the Reach now.”

They only stopped long enough for Garlan to pen a letter to Willas on where they were and when they should be expected to arrive before sending it off by raven. Sansa watched the raven take to the sky and head further west with an odd feeling in her stomach.

* * *

They crossed the Mander River at Bitterbridge. On the other side of the river the farmland seemed to increase. When she had come south the farms were dispersed with large acreage between them. Here the farms seemed stacked next to each other. Every part of fertile land was put to use. No wonder the Reach was responsible for feeding a good part of the realm, and the Tyrells so rich for it.

Sansa and Leonette continued their friendship. Leonette expressing her hope that Sansa would like to continue learning the harp when they reached Highgarden. As they neared Highgarden Sansa began to question both Leonette and her husband about the things Willas liked. What clothing or jewelry should she wear? How would he like her hair styled? What songs did he like?

Leonette had assured her that she would be provided with new dresses in Highgarden as well as a maid to style her hair how she pleased. As well as saying she should have no problem pleasing Willas on looks alone. Garlan had laughed heartily when she pressed the issue before his wife told him to stop. She had always been told she was beautiful, the very image of Catlyn Stark. She prayed to the Maiden that Willas found her so.

As the allotted time for their arrival in Highgarden drew close Sansa felt herself becoming more and more nervous. She did not eat as much and sleep did not come as easily.

It was around mid morning when Sansa could see what appeared to be a large castle in the distance. All around them was farmland leading up to it.

Garlan pointed to the far away building. “There milady. Highgarden.” A measure of pride evident in his voice.

The castle grew larger throughout the rest of the day. By the time Sansa was close enough to make out its’ turrets she was in awe. It truly was something from a song.

Sleek white walls rose from the surrounding gardens. There appeared to be even higher rings inside the outer wall made from the same gleaming white rock. Towers of different sizes were scattered throughout the castle. Outside of the castle people, carts and animals teamed about.

Garlan led the party through the first gate. In between this gate and the second was an immense maze made completely of shrubs. “The briar labyrinth.” Leonette said while smiling. “Garlan has taken me exploring in it many times. You should ask Willas to take you.”

Sansa mumbled something in response and she was sure she was blushing.

They entered the second gate this one larger than the first. Passing many people going about their daily routines tending horses or moving what appeared to be small trees with their roots in burlap bags around. The shadows from the wall were a welcome relief from the heat of day.

When the passed through the third and final gate Garlan called out to one of the guards.

“Have my brother and mother been informed of our arrival?”

“Yes my lord. Lord Willas and Lady Tyrell will meet you at the steps of the keep.”

They approached an open courtyard with large steps leading up to what must have been the keep of the castle. Leonette and Sansa’s horses stopped with the others and Garlan made to help both ladies down from their rides.

Offering Sansa his arm, Garlan led her up the steps with Leonette on Sansa’s right. For the first time Sansa looked up to the top of the steps were the entryway to the keep was.

At the landing of the stairs stood a man and a woman who Sansa assumed were Willas and his mother Lady Tyrell.

After glancing at Garlan and then to Leonette, Sansa took a breath and prepared to meet the man she had traveled so far to see.


	6. A New Offer

Willas had been enjoying an afternoon with his favorite hawk. The bird circled idly above his head for some time. Sometimes he would lose sight of it as the hawk passed through the sun as it made its way toward the horizon. Having spent the better part of the day overseeing the Reach in his father’s absence hawking was an enjoyable activity for him. He found being responsible for only one hawk relaxing after having to make decisions that would affect the citizens of the Reach.

The interruption was a messenger bearing a letter. After looking at the seal he could see it had been written by his grandmother.

_Willas, your sister has pointed out a rather interesting girl to me who would make a suitable wife for you. She seems biddable as well as beautiful enough to tempt you. More importantly she is currently betrothed to the little brat. Though the betrothal is on the weakest of grounds right now. The girl I speak of is Sansa Stark and given her father’s actions, is not in the good standing with Houses Baratheon or Lannister. It goes without saying that a match between you and her will serve our interest well. You get a pretty young bride, correcting the error the oaf created by entering you into that tourney, the king is free to choose Margaery for his bride and we can seek to gain favor with winners of this stupid little war by having lady Sansa in our keep. Your brother and his wife have left King's Landing with her, so expect them to arrive within the month. Do not be like your father and make a mess of this._

_Lady Olenna Tyrell_

Willas reread the final line. They were sending a young woman here? It sounded like the expected him to court her. Didn’t the letter say she was betrothed to the king? Willas wondered why Garlan hadn’t written him or even Margaery for that matter about this plan. Margaery had mentioned her befriending a girl in the capital. He would need to reread those letters, but he thought Margaery was talking about Sansa. Her name sounded familiar to him.

He sighed and made his way back to the residences of the keep. Heading for the Lord’s suites of the massive structure he knocked at the door. After waiting a moment his mother’s handmaid answered the door. He was led through his mother’s solar and room to the balcony where she was finishing up dinner.

Lady Tyrell smiled when she saw her son. “Shall I have them send up something from the kitchens?”

Willas shook his head. “I’m fine mother.”

Sitting down he pulled out the letter he received. “This came.” He placed it down on the small table. “It’s from grandmother. Apparently she’s sending another suitor out from the capital for me.”

His mother read the letter before placing it back down.

“Lord Eddard’s daughter?”

“The eldest I believe.” Willas ran his hand over his ruined knee. “Do you think she knows? About my leg?”

“I don’t know.” Alerie hated to see her son like this. Knowing that all previous suitors had been denied due to what the ladies fathers thought of his leg.

Willas’s face is deep in thought as he looks out over the view of the garden below. “A northern lady. I’m not sure what their customs are regarding courting. I suppose she follows the old gods. We do have the three singers. I’m sure it’s not the same as any godswood in the north.” Willas’s mind began working on how he was to court the young woman.

“I wonder if it is because of her name she is seeking a match. Her brother is leading the north and the Riverlands in rebellion. I imagine that leaves her few friends in the capital.”

“True.” Willas replied. “I think Margaery has mentioned her in her letters. Hopefully she’s put me in a good light.”

“She could do nothing but that dear.”

* * *

Knowing he only had days until the mystery maiden arrived Willas spent time learning what he could from the library about the North. He knew the Tully’s were connected to the Starks by marriage. Sansa Stark's own mother was born Catlyn Tully. There was not a vast amount of books on the north that described in detail the traditions of the north men. Willas did learn that they did not put much emphasis on protocol as the southern lords did. This did line up with the reputation the north held as a land of harsh winters. People who lived there would become more practical Willas reasoned.

The raven from Garlan came not long after. It was short, very short. For once Willas felt as Margaery did, wanting to know every detail about what her brothers were up to. Instead the letter said they had left the capital at night and were in good health and spirits as well as when they were to be expected.

While waiting, Willas oversaw the cleaning up of the godswood and the area around it. Not that the groundskeepers of Highgarden were neglectful in their task, but Willas wanted it to look its best for the lady Sansa. A new path was laid quickly. This one of stone instead of the gravel that made up most of the less used paths that twisted through the gardens. A room was selected in the guest tower of the keep that overlooked the godswood. Willas hoped that would make her happy.

It was then that then that Willas forced himself to focus on other matters at hand. He knew that the lord's further south along the Mander had been requesting the river be dredged. And to do so would require a tax. Something Willas had been working on negotiating for some time. There had been not suitors for the past four years. The thought of receiving a young woman in Highgarden had him nervous now.

Several days after Garlan had sent the raven Willas was interrupted while going over the accounts of barge traffic on the Mander when a servant informed him of his brothers’ return. After thanking the servant Willas stood up and made his way to the receiving hall.

He had made an effort to wear slightly better clothes than usual the past few days. He was ensuring his tunic was straight when he heard his mother approach.

She was smiling as she neared him. “Nervous?”

Willas chuckled. “Surprisingly so. Should I leave one of my crutches behind and only use one?”

“They are fine.” She said.

Willas sighed and looked toward the open gate.

Garlan was the first to enter, waving at Willas and his mother as he did. The square in front of the keep rattled with the sound of horses as the rest of the entourage entered. The ladies were easy enough to spot in the middle of the group. Having known Leonette for some time know the other woman was clearly lady Sansa. Willas was sure he would be able to spot her from now on with ease as her hair was an uncommon red.

Willas tamped down on his nerves. He had received suitors before, though not in great number, and was responsible for welcoming visitors to Highgarden with his father away in the capital. This should be no different.

Garlan helps both of the women down from their horses and Sansa takes his arm as they walk up toward Willas. When he reaches the top he lets Leonette stand by Sansa has he greets his brother.

“Willas!” Garlan embraces his brother carefully as Willas hold both of his crutches in one hand.

“Garlan.” The older man smiles at his brother. He watches as Garlan is welcomed by their mother. He wants to look toward the two youngest women but finds that he cannot.

He does look at them when Garlan returns to their side to introduce them.

“Lady Sansa, may I introduce to you my brother.” He motioned to Willas. “Lord Willas of Highgarden.”

Willas came closer to her on his crutches. She knew from what Magery had told her that he had a bad leg. Though she did not know what that would entail. He seemed to move quite well with them she noted.

Sansa offered the most elegant courtesy she could with her muscles aching from the days of riding. “A pleasure to meet you my lord.”

“The pleasure is mine my lady.” Willas quickly shuffles his crutches back into his left arm while offering her his right hand to stand. She takes it and rises to her full height once more. Being as tall as she is Sansa is nearly eye level with Willas. When he takes both the crutches and places them under his arms to move again she notes their eyes are now at the same level. He had the brown eyes and hair that the Tyrells were known for and a close cropped beard.

“Allow me to introduce my mother Lady Alerie Tyrell.” Willas says while ushering Sansa closer to his mother.

“Thank you for hosting me Lady Tyrell.”

“You are most welcome lady Sansa.”

Willas greets Leonette warmly and the group turns to enter the main hall of the keep. Garlan takes his wife's arm and moves to catch up with Lady Tyrell who is slightly ahead of them.

Willas moves to Sansa’s side as she follows his mother. “If you would like to change or rest my lady, we have some rooms prepared for you. We can wait for a more formal meeting until tonight.”

“I would like that my lord. It is much warmer than I am use to.”

“Mother, I’ll escort lady Sansa to her rooms. She would like to rest before dinner.”

Lady Tyrell bid the two farewell and they set off through the corridors toward Sansa’s rooms. Sansa followed slightly behind Willas, not knowing where they were going and a little slower pace. The keep was just as impressive inside as it was outside. They passed many rooms that Sansa could only begin to guess at what purpose they served.

“You have a view of the gardens from your room. If you wish I can show you myself tomorrow.”

“That sounds lovely my lord. Thank you.”

“Did you bring anything with you from the Capital?”

“Just a small travel pack. I believe lady Leonette had one of the servants deliver it to my rooms when we arrived. She did say that someone would pack the rest of my things and send them by cart later.”

“I’ll make sure to see your effects are brought to you when they arrive then.”

They climbed several flights of stairs, slowly due to Willas’s leg. Sansa said nothing and maid not display of being annoyed at the pace they moved at. When they arrived at an ornate door carved with what appeared to be different types of trees Willas turned to her.

“Well, here are your rooms my lady. I will have your handmaiden sent up to you soon. Please rest as you need before dinner.”

“Will Garlan, I’m sorry, _Ser_ Garlan and Lady Leonette dine with us.”

Willas laughed kindly. “Yes they will my mother will be there as well. We will be dining in a few hours so please do not feel rushed. Until then my lady.” He offered a slight bow, or as best as he could and turned back down the hall.

* * *

Sansa was stunned temporarily when she entered the room. What she saw was so much larger than she had at the Red Keep. Before her was a large sitting room painted in a pastel green. Around the room there were a few chairs and a table that seemed to be large enough for four or five people to eat at. A door was at the opposite end of the room. Opening it Sansa entered what was the bed chambers to the suite. A small balcony overlooked the gardens just like lord Willas had said. Yet another door proved to open to a small room that contained a tub.

Sansa sat on the four-poster bed in silence listening to the wind outside. Willas seemed pleasant enough. So had Joffrey in the beginning. Her hands tumbled around against one another as she thought. She had meet all of his siblings and none of them seemed to be anything other than kind to her. It would only be natural for Willas to be as well. No, Willas was like both of his brothers. He would be a true knight and she would make him love her. Laying down on the bed she succumbed to sleep, excited at the prospect of dinner later.

Willas entered the study he had been in before the group from King’s Landing had arrived with lady Sansa. He picked the charts and ledgers he had been working with back up and struggled to continue working. Instead his mind went back to the young woman who was now in the guest tower of the keep.

She was young he imagined, rather young he corrected himself. He was slightly uncomfortable with her age. She couldn’t be more than six-and-ten. He imagined she was closer to five-and-ten or maybe even four-and-ten. A near decade younger than himself. Not knowing the Stark family he had assumed when the letter had mentioned young that she would be around his age, most likely younger. He had not expected a woman just out of girlhood.

She was a striking woman though. Red hair and blue eyes were not common in the Reach.

It was a good enough first meeting. She did not have an air of disdain or try to sneak glances at his leg. For the first time in several years Willas found that he was hoping that plans for their marriage would work out.

* * *

It was her new handmaid who woke her from her slumber later in the afternoon. A pleasant enough young woman who appeared to be older than herself. The woman helped Sansa into a fresh dress that was about her size, having come from one of the many extended Tyrell family members that made their home in Highgarden.

“What is your name?” Sansa asked as they were trying to get the sleeves to fit properly on the dress.

“Kristyne milady.”

“Have you been working in Highgarden for long?”

“For several years now milady. I’m usually a ladies maid for the younger children of guest that visit. My husband works here as well, I’m very lucky to work close to him. The Tyrells have been good to us.”

“Your husband works here?”

“Oh, yes. He’s a gardener.” There is a measure of pride in Kristyne’s voice at letting Sansa know this.

“Willas offered to show me the gardens tomorrow. They seem very beautiful.” She says while she looked out to the setting sun.

“That they are my lady. They require an army of workers to keep them up.”

At the mention of the word army Sansa becomes more somber. Thinking of her mother and her brother. She had not thought of them since she arrived in Highgarden. The fact seems a bit like treason to her. She reminds herself that she should follow her mother’s words and try to help her family. The Tyrells seem to be in league with the Lannister, but she hopes she will be able to change that.

They finished with the dress and Sansa turns to examine herself in the full sized mirror in the corner of the room. It’s not a perfect fit, given her height, but she hopes it will impress Willas. She must catch his eye she thinks. For men can turn down ladies they do not find beautiful.

A rap on the door announces a page who informs the women that dinner is ready and the Tyrells await her presence.

Sansa is led to a smaller dining hall that the family uses on more private occasions. Inside Lady Tyrell is seated by her son. Ser Garlan and his wife are there as well, Leonette smiles when Sansa enters the room. Willas stands and moves behind the seat next to him and offers it to her.

“I hope you are rested my lady.”

“Indeed my lord. My rooms are very comfortable. Thank you again.”

Sansa looked over to Willas before continuing. “The Rose Road is aptly named. I’ve never seen more beautiful scenery while traveling.”

“The long summer has been a blessing to the Reach. Each harvest seems better than the previous one. A pity is has to come to an end though. But winter is coming as you Starks say my lady.”

Once again Sansa’s expression fell at the thought of her family for a moment. This did not seem to go unnoticed by Willas.

He cleared his throat and asked. “Would you like to write your brother or your lady mother? I recall report saying they were in the northern Riverlands. I’m sure we can get a raven to them. Or arrange for a courier if you would like.”

Sansa pondered the idea for a moment and then the simple fact that he had offered to do such a thing. Joffrey would never have allowed her to write her family. The Queen would only allow it if was to spread lies.

“Thank you my lord, I would very much like to write mother and Robb. It has been so long since I’ve heard from them.”

Willas responded with a smile.

Lady Tyrell was the next to speak. “I’m told you have a name approaching lady Sansa.”

Willas looks toward his mother then over to lady Sansa, curiosity in his eyes.

“Yes my lady. Lady Leonette and I were planning a small party when we were still in the capital.”

“Lemon cakes are Sansa’s favorite I’ve learned.” Leonette offered. “I told her the Reach has should be able to supply her with an endless supply of lemons.” She followed teasingly.

Sansa blushed slightly at this.

“How old-“Willas began.

“Willas!” His mother cut him off quickly.

Willas frowned and apologized when he realized what he was about to ask. It wasn’t the best question having just met the young woman.

Sansa fidgeted in her chair. On the one hand she did not want to disappoint Willas. He had asked a question and he would expect an answer. On the other she did not want him to view her as a girl. He would not wish to marry a girl. “It is alright Lady Tyrell.” She spoke to her host. “I will be three-and-ten my lord.”

Willas snuck a glance at Garlan who met his gaze.

“I’ll make sure we have plenty of lemon cakes on hand then. Perhaps you and Leonette can continue your plans for a party here. I’m sure mother would like to have a small gathering here.”

Willas’s mother agreed that it would be a welcome idea.

When the meal concluded Willas offered to escort Sansa back to her rooms. Once again they walked through the halls of the keep and up the stairs. “I have work to do in the morning,” he said breaking the silence. “I hope you don’t feel neglected by me.” He offered an apologetic smile. “I was thinking I’ll have sometime after lunch to show you the gardens. You can eat with my mother or Leonette if you’d like.”

“I look forward to it my lord. And I do not feel neglected. I know you have many responsibilities in your father's place. Margaery mentioned as much.” So unlike another ruler she knew, who did not take his duties any were near as seriously as he should.

* * *

Once again Willas left her at the door to her suite and bid her good evening, promising to see her tomorrow.

Willas immediately went to Garlan and Leonette’s room. He hoped he would not interrupt them, he smiled ruefully to himself. He needed some answers though. Beside her age what else had they not told him of the Stark girl.

He knocked three times on the heavy door of his brother’s room. Garlan answered quickly enough, opening the door to see his brother standing before him.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.” Willas said with a smirk.

Garlan merely laughed and clapped his brother on the shoulder before he pulled him inside.

Once they were inside and seated by the fire of the solar Willas looked Garlan in the eye.

“Three-and-ten? Three-and-ten, Garlan, did anyone think to mention this to me.”

Garlan sighed and glanced at his wife who entered the room from the bed chamber to take the couch with him.

“I had a feeling you would take an issue with that.”

His brother sat back in the chair further. “Is that all you’ve not told me?”

“You know she is, most likely was now, betrothed to the king yes?”

Willas nodded in affirmation.

Garlan appeared to think his words over. “He was.. they were not kind to her in the capital. With her brother leading the North and her uncle the Riverlands in open rebellion she was not welcome in court.”

“They beat her Willas. Striped and beat her in court when word arrived of her brother’s victory in battle.” Leonette said in a soft voice.

Aghast, Willas looked between the two hoping that what he had just heard was not true.

“The Kingsguard,” Garlan added gravely “The flat of their swords to her back.”

Willas’s stomach churned. He was under no impression that all knights took their vows seriously. But to beat a hostage, a young girl at that, took him by surprise. His sister entered his thoughts just then.

His head snapped up. “Margaery! What about Margaery!”

“You know grandmother won’t let anyone touch her. She can scare most people off just by glaring at them. She also seemed to have the king under control while we were there. You know how she is. She had him trailing around her in a few days’ time.”

“Is that why you left the capital so suddenly?”

“No, the Lannisters found out about grandmother’s little scheme. They were going to wed Sansa to someone else most likely.”

The whole situation made much more sense to Willas now. He could not fault Garlan for acting as he did. The idea of marrying such a young woman, he forced himself to think of her as such, was not the most appealing.

“I’ve been teaching her the harp these past few weeks. During our time I’ve come to consider Sansa a friend Willas. There is no denying she is young, we all agree on that. She will grow, and what better place to than here?”

“That’s right,” Garlan added. “She is quite the looker. Just think Willas. In a few years you’ll be the envy of the Reach with a bride as stunning as Sansa.”

Leonette elbowed her husband slightly.

Willas already knew his brother was right. She would be the envy of many a maid in the Reach for her looks.

“Do you think she has the mind for it? Like mother? I’ll need a Lady of Highgarden who can handle the responsibilities, not just look pretty.”

“I think she does.” Came Garlan’s reply with Leonette nodding as well. There was silence again as Willas thought over what they had said.

“Well,” Willas rose to his feet and adjusted his crutches. “I won’t overstay my welcome. Goodnight Garlan, Leonette.”

With that he exited the room and headed for his own.

“Do you think he’s interested at least?” Leonette asked her husband.

“I do. I’ve never heard him consider another woman for Lady of Highgarden. In terms of being capable like mother is. I think he is interested. He’s clearly worried about the age gap. A little more in her not being interested in him, being older than her, than he would admit.”

Garlan grinned wickedly as he pulled his wife into his lap.

“I know who I’m interested in though.”

His wife rolled her eyes. “You’re terrible.” She murmured before meeting his kiss.


	7. The Northern Bride

Sansa awoke for the second time in her new bed. It was by far the best one she had ever slept in. Everything in Highgarden was luxurious. Kristyne helped her with yet another borrowed dress. Sansa was to visit the seamstress this morning and get several new dresses made quickly. She intended on working on her own once again when she had the time. She would try to match the northern styles she was use to with lighter fabrics that agreed more with the warm southern weather.

Leonette joined her while the seamstress took measurements and helped Sansa pick out different colored bolts of cloth. She selected several pastel greens as well as a few blues to remind her of the north. She would use other colors when she started to make her own gowns again.

Having Leonette around was a boon for Sansa. She had greatly enjoyed learning to play the harp and the two had made plans to continue the lessons when Sansa got a little more settled.

After Sansa selected a few patterns she liked, they seemed to be the closest she could get to style the gowns were in the north, Leonette led her to a patio in the back of the Keep for lunch. Lady Tyrell was already there waiting for them when they arrived.

Lunch was a pleasant time. Lady Tyrell was a gracious host and both her and Leonette told Sansa about their own childhood homes while Sansa told them of the North and Winterfell. They had just finished their tea when Willas arrived. Bidding his mother and goodsister farewell he escorted Sansa from to the gardens.

Willas and Sansa left the patio and meandered down a stone path toward their destination.

“We have a godswood here Sansa.” Willas spoke. “It has three weirwoods in them that we call the three singers. They were planted by King Garth IX several thousand years ago. I assume you keep the old gods?”

“I do my lord, as well as the new gods. My mother is from house Tully and keeps the seven. She brought her faith north with her. My father built a sept for her in Winterfell. We had a septa to teach both myself and my sister in the proper arts of a lady. Though Arya did not enjoy learning such things.” She smiled faintly at the memories.

“Arya is you sister?”

“Yes my lord.”

They arrived at the entrance to the godswood. It was small in comparison to the one at Winterfell, but larger than the godswood at King’s Landing.

Willas motioned to a stone bench that had been erected in the lush grass. As they both sat down Sansa took a moment to examine the carvings that made up the decorations on the bench. Were they running dogs? No they were direwolves. Some of them running, others howling at the moon in the night.

“Are these… dire wolves carved into the stone my lord? Have there been Starks here before?”

“That they are my lady. Though, I cannot say if Starks have ever visited Highgarden before. Certainly none have before you in my life.”

She looked at him in puzzlement then as to why they were carved in the stone then.

“The bench needed to be replaced. When I learned of your arrival I thought it might help to be surrounded by things that reminded you of your family, of home.” Now it was Willas’s turn to blush slightly under Sansa’s scrutiny. Joffrey would never have thought about her being homesick. If anything was given to her bearing a dire wolf it was always meant to reinforce the notion that the Starks were subservient to the crown. Joffrey had ordered her chamber pot painted with a dire wolf on the inside to insult her.

“Have you ever seen a dire wolf?”

“I have. I had one as a pet. My brothers and sister as well. We found a litter of pups in the woods. The mother was dead, killed by a stag, and the pups were left to fend for themselves. Father let us keep them. Her name was Lady.”

A flash of grief appeared across her features and Willas kicked himself mentally for disturbing her. He wondered what had happened for her to use the past tense in reference to her wolf. She had kept a dire wolf for a pet? He tried to imagine this quiet young girl with a wolf for a pet. It seemed to be a paradox to him.

“I know how animals can be good friends. I have several horses here that I enjoy taking care of. As well as hounds and hawks. I do have a gift for you. I wasn’t sure when to show you it. But since we were on the topic. If you would like to my lady, would you follow me to the stables?”

Sansa smiled and took the hand he offered to help her up and the two set off for the stables.

Along the way they passed more flowers and small trees. Sansa did not know so many types existed. Willas noticed her attention moving from one type of flower to another.

“We have just about every type of flower that can grow in this climate somewhere in the gardens. If there is a particular flower you like I’m sure we can find if for you.”

“Oh, I don’t know much about flowers to have a favorite. Winterfell does not have such an abundance of color there.”

“It must be beautiful in its own way.”

“It is I suppose. I did not realize that until I came south unfortunately.”

Willas’s own stalls were carved of a lovely oak Sansa noted. Inside there are several horses that stamp the ground when they enter. A small bag is hanging near the entrance and is picked up by Willas. He guides her down to a stall with a grey mare in it. Willas fished around in the bag and pulls out two sugar cubes. He then holds his hand out to the mare and offers them to her. Sansa watches as the cubes were picked up the horse's tongue while Willas pets her.

“Here,” Willas says handing the bag to her. “I like to spoil them every now and then.”

Following his example she takes out two small cubes and holds them in her palm for the horse. The horse eats them from her hand like before and Sansa laughs at the sensation of the tongue on her palm.

Willas knows her would like to hear her laugh again. He fights back such thoughts to talk to her.

“She’s yours.” He says with a casual finality.

“Really? I haven’t kept a horse before. I’m not sure what to do.” She has a stunned look on her face.

Willas laughs. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to do much; we have stable hands after all. And yes, she’s yours.”

“What’s her name?” She whispers and she strokes the mare's’ nose.

“What do you think it should be? I haven’t named her myself.”

Sansa studied the horse and contemplates possible names. “Buttons,” She settles on. “Buttons.”

Sansa gets to know the rest of Willas’s horses before they go to visit some of his hounds. They remind her somewhat of the dire wolves her siblings had. But they are not really the same. She finds herself occasionally wanting to tell Rickon to come and see them. But then remembers that they are not here. Why does everything have to be tinged with sorrow in such a beautiful place she wonders?

Overall, Sansa and Willas enjoy the afternoon together.

* * *

Over the next few weeks Sansa spends most afternoons with Willas. In the mornings she occupied her time with Lady Tyrell, lady Leonette or by herself in the library. The library in Highgarden has many of her favorite poems and stories as well as others that she has never read before. Willas occasionally goes to the library with her and shows her some of his favorite books as well. He tells her about were the come from and who wrote them. Sansa has come to rely on his recommendations on what to read next.

He is a kind man she thinks, much like his mother in disposition, and nothing like Joffrey. He is reserved like her father, she wonders if the two would have got along, if her father would approve of a southern match for her.

The raven from the capital arrives. It is from his grandmother Willas notes. He steels himself for a scathing note on why she has not yet heard of his marriage to lady Sansa. What he gets instead is nothing like he expected.

_Willis, Margaery is now engaged to the brat and lady Sansa’s betrothal has been broken. Your father is over the moon with joy for this._

_What I have to tell you next though will bring no joy to the girl. Her brother and mother are dead. Along with some three thousand of their bannermen at the twins. Your Stark girl's’ uncle was to marry one of those wretched Frey’s since her brother broke his own engagement to one of the girls. Instead the old Frey killed them all during the wedding. They’re calling it the red wedding and it has the capital in a tizzy. Her uncle lives, though he is a prisoner of his own bannermen._

_Sansa is now the only claim to Winterfell. The Lannisters are sure to seek her out because of it. We cannot let them lay claim to the north through her sons. If you have not already, marry the girl now. The next raven I receive had better tell me of your nuptials._

_Lady Olenna Tyrell._

By the time he finished the letter Willas was sick. Violation of guest right? The gods, old and new, would not stand for it. Nor should the crown. How were people supposed to leave their own lands if guest right was not upheld?

Just when he thought it couldn’t get worse he thought of Sansa. How would he tell her? His grandmother was insistent that they marry. If only to deny the Lannisters a claim on the north. The past few weeks have been enjoyable with her.

Proposing marriage just after learning that she is the last of her family is not how he wants it happen. But if they do not marry what would happen to her? The crown may summon her to the capital to swear loyalty to the Iron Throne, being the Lady of Winterfell now. Once there, they may pressure her into a marriage. Or even force her, if they intend on thumbing their noses at the gods even more than they already have.

He had wished for a longer engagement, given her age. But had been dashed by the news from the north. If they were to wed, he knows, it will have to be soon. Very soon.

Willas looks out the window to the gardens outside his study. It is a gorgeous day outside. Part of him can’t fathom crushing it with the news he must share. He moves to the door and lingers at it. As if to give Sansa more time, more time in a world in which she is not the last of her kin.

He moves out into the corridor and down the hall. After asking a servant as to where lady Sansa is, he learns she is with his mother in one of the rooms usually set aside for sewing. He knows they have been working on some of her dresses recently.

His crutches give him away as he enters the room to find both women looking at him expectantly. What is he supposed to say? Does he flit around the issue without saying much, or just blurt out what happened?

Sansa immediately puts down the embroidery she was working on when she meets his eyes, her own going large. His mother looked at him worriedly.

“Willas? What is it?”

Willas cleared his throat and opens his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He tried again.

“A raven arrived from grandmother,” He makes eye contact with Sansa again. “I…I’m sorry lady Sansa. Your mother and brother have been killed.”

Very little emotion is visible on Sansa's’ face. She slowly looks back down to her lap and folds her hands together.

Lady Tyrell looks at Sansa before turning to her son. “Willas, what has happened?”

For some reason Willas finds it easier to talk to his mother, he feels like a coward for it.

“Lord Edmure Tully was wed to one of the Frey girls. Lady Stark and her son were in attendance. Lord Frey violated guest right and….” He looked at Sansa before continuing faintly. “Killed them during the ceremony. You lord uncle yet lives my lady.” He adds trying to make his voice sound hopeful.

The silence that followed was stifling. Sansa stood up and did not look at either of the other people in the room. She walked to the door. “If you will pardon me my lady and lord. I need a moment.” With that she left the room with both Tyrells watching helplessly after her.

Leonette approached the sewing room with some bits of lace to show to Sansa when she caught a glimpse of the girl walking quickly in the opposite direction. She appeared to be on the verge of crying. She continued on to her destination and found an extremely angry looking Willas and a distressed Lady Tyrell. The first thing that came to her mind was a major falling out had just occurred between Willas and the young Stark. Anger flared in Leonette as she neared Willas.

“What did you do?” she asked with a touch of anger.

Willas spun as best he could and fixed her with a deadly glare. “What did I do? What did _I_ do?” he hissed dangerously.

“Willas!” Lady Tyrell put her hands on her sons shoulder. “She does not know.”

“Know what?” Leonette asked. Trying to think what could have possibly transpired to have left the people before her in such a state.

“They killed them all. _Over two thousand._ Her brother and mother included.”

“Sansas’?” Leonette whispered.

Willas could do nothing but nod. Sitting down he set his crutches aside and put his face in his hands.

“There’s more. Grandmother wants the wedding to happen now. She’s worried the Lannisters will summon her to the capital and marry her off so they can control the north.”

Silence reigned again in the room.

“Are you going to offer for her hand?” Lady Tyrell asked her son.

Willas’s face showed utter confusion when his head rose.

“Now? On the back of all this?” He sounded incredulous. “Mother-“

Lady Tyrell held her hand up to stop him. “Do you have feelings for her?”

Willas averted his gaze, his ears reddening slightly at the question.

“You already know what will most likely happen should you not wed her. Someone else will, someone who does not have her best interest at heart or will treat her well. You already know this don’t you though.” She added.

“Yes.” Willas replied with a soft voice.

His mother moves to the couch and puts a hand over his.

“You have a good heart Willas. I know you’ll make the best of this. I quite like Sansa, and would be glad to call her my daughter.”

“Leonette,” Lady Tyrell addressed her goddaughter. “Find your husband. Tell him to bring a scribe to the study. They have a contract to prepare.”

Leonette left in search of Garlan leaving Willas and his mother alone. “I will go and speak to Sansa. The poor girl must be beside herself right now. Go and meet your brother. When she is ready I will send for you.”

Willas nodded and did his best to put on a passive face. This was moving faster than he had anticipated. But he knew his mother was right.

* * *

When Lady Tyrell knocked on the door she was greeted by a Sansa’s handmaid looking rather timid. The maid curtsied.

“Has lady Sansa retired to her room?”

“She has milady. She is… rather distressed at the moment. I don’t know what’s happened to her. I’ve never seen her like this.”

She entered the room. She could not hear weeping from the solar and took that as a somewhat good sign.

“Please put some water on to boil. And prepare a bath. I will talk to lady Sansa.”

The maid curtsied again and set off to do as she was bid.

The door to Sansa’s bed chamber was open but Lady Tyrell stopped as she approached the threshold.

She called out to the young woman inside. “Sansa? Sansa its Lady Tyrell, may I come in for a moment?”

“Lady Tyrell?” Came a croaked response from inside. “Yes, you can come in.”

Inside in the middle of the bed amongst a flurry of skirts was Sansa, curled in the fetal position clutching at a doll. Her eyes are red and there are tear stains running down her face. The older woman sat down next to her and brushed her hair back.

The action reminds Sansa of her mother, tending her whenever her brothers had taken a doll, or Theon had said something distasteful to her. The tears flow unabated from Sansa’s eyes as she instinctively curled closer to Lady Tyrell.

Eventually Sansa’s could cry no more and her tears became the occasional hiccup. “Thank you.”

Lady Tyrell offered Sansa a smile.

“What am I to do now? I’m the Lady of Winterfell now. I never imagined…” She finds she can’t continue her line of thought.

“The king,” She pushes herself into an upright position. “And the Lannisters, what will they want from me.”

“To wed you to one of their own, most likely.” Lady Tyrell cannot lie to the young woman. If she is to make an informed choice she’ll need to know the truth. The truth, that right now, she is one of the most valuable ladies in Westeros.

“Your son will be the Lord Paramount of the north. That is a prize many would seek.”

“Is that all I am, a prize to birth sons for others?” She asks angrily.

Lady Tyrell does not seem bothered by the sudden rush of anger from the young woman.

“To some, yes.” She takes Sansa’s hand in her own. “We are highborn women Sansa. That will always means to some men we are only good for trueborn children, and little more. But that is not true of all men. It’s certainly not true with Mace and myself. It’s not true of Garlan and Leonette.” She hesitates to ask about Sansa’s parents, having never met Lord and Lady Stark, she cannot tell how they were to one another.

“You have enjoyed your time here haven’t you? And you’ve given some thought to marrying Willas, yes?

“Yes. I suppose that’s why I came to Highgarden.”

Hating to add to Sansa’s pressure Lady Tyrell continues. “You have the power to choose your own husband as head of your family. That’s not something every highborn bride can say.”

Sansa wants to scoff at that. What family? It’s only her, and possibly Arya. But no one has heard from Arya in so long now. What would her mother do? The Tully words ran through her mind. Her mother would do her duty to her family. If the Starks were to survive she would need a husband. A husband with the power to ensure their survival in a realm of enemies and traitors to her family.

“Come,” Lady Tyrell broke her thoughts. “A bath is waiting for you. You’ll feel better after a warm bath, trust me.”

When Lady Tyrell left Kristyne helped Sansa into the bath she had prepared. She helped Sansa with her hair in silence. A task that usually involved much chatter about different hair styles in the north and the south felt different with only the sound of water.

Sansa’s mind continued to think about what she was planning to do. She would marry Willas and do her duty to her family. Would he mind that one of his children would have to go north one day? Would the north wait that long, or even accept the child of a southern lord? No, they would have to. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.

* * *

When Sansa got up from the tub she had Kristyne select a pale blue dress for her to wear. Her hair is done in a northern style. It would not suit a Lady of Winterfell to throw off all the trappings of the north, even this far south.

Sansa takes a moment to compose herself. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, there is no hint that she has spent much of the past hour or so crying. After asking where Lord Willas was, Sansa made her way to the keep’s main study.

Along the way were paintings and statues she had not paid much attention to previously. They depicted members of house Tyrell throughout the years. A few were family portraits of one of the Tyrell lords and his family. The thought of having a portrait on the wall with children of her own daunted her. They would be heirs to not one, but two of the largest realms in Westeros.

Family, duty, honor. The words rang through her head as she walked.

She reminded herself that Willas was a kind man. During their time together he had given her no reason to repudiate what Leonette or Margaery had told her.

Stealing a look at a passing painting she noticed that the girl in the picture looked like her Lady mother than lord father. Would Willas be disappointed if she had a daughter, or a son, that took after her? Her brothers took after their mother more and father did not mind. Willas would not mind as well she tells herself. She would give them good northern names.

She would teach them to hate the Lannisters. Yes, the Lannisters were not to be trusted. She would also teach them to be brave and honorable like her father.

They would learn about chivalry and gallantry from their father and uncle. She would love and cherish her children like her own mother did.

Even this far south she would make sure they understood the words of her house. Winter is coming.

She approaches the study. This time there is no hesitancy when she enters the room. She knows what she is here to do and will not run. Inside were Willas, his mother as well as his brother and good sister.

Willas turns to her and approaches on his crutches. Sansa stops part of the way into the room and awaits him at a distance from the others.

He comes to a halt a pace from her and shifts his crutches under his arms a little as he stands on one leg, the other resting on the floor but with no pressure on it.

“Lady Stark,” He addresses her. She gulps down the emotion that surges in her when he calls her such. “If my lady would allow. I ask for your hand in marriage, so that our two houses might be joined.” He held out his hand slightly, asking for her own. Inside he cringed at his own wording. He did not feel like he could profess profound feelings for the young woman. He had no profound feelings, warm perhaps, but not profound. Still, it came across as far to business like. Even though he supposed on some levels it was.

Sansa held out her hand and allowed him to take it. “You honor me and my house my lord. I accept your proposal and will be honored to be your lady wife.” She tried to sound happy and light, but failed. This was not how she had dreamed of getting married. With declarations of love and her family surrounding her on that special day. Even during her time in Highgarden thinking about what life with Willas could be like was nothing like this. The news of her family’s death hung over everything at the moment.

Willas shuffled over to her right side and offered Sansa his arm. Walking over to the others was a clumsy exercise with Willas only using one crutch and trying to hold on to the other and Sansa at the same time. She seemed to take it in stride and matched his slower movements with her own. Even though her legs wanted to take longer steps due to her height.

They sat on a couch together, though not so close together. Leonette and Garlan offer their congratulations. “I know most of the younger family girls are in the capital with Margaery, but I’m sure many of the ladies here in Highgarden will love to help you prepare for the ceremony.” Leonette tells Sansa.

Sansa turned to speak to the man she is to marry. “Has a date been selected my lord?”

“In two weeks my lady. It will give some time for the lords in the lands around Highgarden to arrive. If it is held immediately it may cause some suspicion; on why we could not wait for some quest to arrive. It will also help to have it observed by others. The High Septon is less likely to find fault with a more public marriage. Should you have no objection that is.” He quickly added.

“Next week is fine my lord. I am not going anywhere.” She tried to make a small joke but reddened afterwards. Only Garlan let out a chuckle.

“I do not wish to seem ungrateful my lord,” Sansa said to her husband to be. “If you would excuse me I would like to visit the sept.”

“Not at all. May I escort you? The family sept is a solitary place. I find myself going there to think and pray often.”

“I would like that.”

Bidding the others goodbye for a time the two made their way to the garden path that led to the sept. Sansa had spent most of her time praying in the godwood. Praying to the old gods made more sense with her brother leading the north in war. She had been neglectful of the seven during her stay in Highgarden.

“You pray often my lord?”

“I do.” Willas replied as they strolled through the many colored rose bushes. “With my mother being a Hightower we, my siblings and I, were raised very devoutly.”

The sept was indeed smaller than she had imagined it. It was quiet as well, no one was around, save for the two of them.

Sansa knelt before the Stranger. In all his life Willas had never seen anyone pray to the Stranger. The unknown god representing death was not normally beseeched. He pulled up a padded stool kept in the sept for him, and eased himself down on it before the Crone. Both Willas and Sansa spend the rest of their time in the sept together in silence. Praying for their families and the future.

* * *

In the coming days the announcement of the marriage of the heir to Highgarden to a maiden from the North was sent to all houses in the Reach. Invitations were extended to all who could make the trip to the seat of house Tyrell on such a short notice. Most minor houses were glad to see their future lord finally taking steps to secure the future of their overlord. Even if they had refused to wed a member of their own house to the crippled knight.

The ravens that arrived from King’s Landing bearing the seals of his father, grandmother and sister contained nothing but hopes for happiness and apologies that none of the members of house Tyrell in the capital would miss his wedding. The fact that his grandmother had expressed some mild feelings of good will toward him and Sansa left Willas confused.

Highgarden became even more draped in flowers in preparation for the wedding. Food and drink from across the bountiful Reach made their way into the castle for the feast.

Sansa insisted on preparing her own dress for the wedding. Lady Tyrell had offered her own seamstress to help, but Sansa politely turned her down. Instead Sansa and the ladies of Highgarden worked on the dress. They occupied one of the upper rooms of the keep that commanded a stunning view of the Mander. When Sansa would look up to rest her eyes from her work she would look out onto the river. It was so peaceful here in Highgarden. Much like something out of a dream or the songs she loved.

Even given the short time she had to create the dress, Sansa was able to create a beautiful gown with the help of the others in time. She selected a bright white and had trimmed the edges of the gown with pale blues and greens. The bridal cloak was also white, with a grey direwolf roaring in the middle.

During some of time she was not either working on her dress or in the sept, she and Lady Tyrell oversaw some of the decorating in the keep and the larger sept. The largest sept in Highgarden was truly magnificent. It also did not carry the taint that the Baelor’s Great Sept did in the capital. From her future goodmother Sansa began to learn more of the different types of flower the Reach grew. Roses were a particular specialty of Highgarden and they came in many different colors. Sansa loved all of the beauty and pageantry that was ongoing.

Sometimes it would help distract her from her melancholy. Other times she found herself wishing her own mother was here to help. Or even Arya, even though Arya would probably gag at the whole thing.

Willas had to put off the work he’d been trying to focus on before the wedding was announced. Now he was dealing with well-wishers and budgeting for the wedding. The only time he was able to spend with Sansa was during the family dinners. She seemed to be in a good mood for the situation. She had a friendship with Leonette and seemed to be developing one with his mother. He was thankful for that. Willas did not know what he would do if either woman did not like the other. He had always trusted his mother's’ advice when father was away on business, leaving him to run Highgarden. And her openness to Sansa was very welcome.

It had been decided that Garlan would escort Sansa on her wedding day to the altar. With no male family members near Sansa accepted the offer from her future goodbrother.

On the day of the ceremony Kristyne helped Sansa bathe and prepare her hair. Once again she did it a northern style. Part of her hoped it would not be frowned upon to not dress like the future Lady of Highgarden just yet. She was still Sansa Stark, the blood of the first men ran through her.

As she was just finishing up the lacing to her dress a knock came from the door. When Kristyne answered she called to Sansa saying that lady Leonette was at the door along with several children.

Sansa came out of the bedroom to see for herself.

“Hello Sansa. Your dress looks lovely.” Leonette said from just inside the room. Around her were several girls who were already dressed for the ceremony like Leonette.

“They wanted to give you something before you left for the sept and begged me to take them to you.” She leaned in closer so only Sansa could hear them. “I think they just wanted to see your dress. I told them about making it with you.” She whispered.

Sansa folded her hands in front of her and smiled as she approached the young girls. The whispered amongst themselves and pushed one girl forward. From behind her back she produced a small bouquet of flowers. The girl said nothing as she held them out for Sansa.

“For me?” Sansa asked.

The girl nodded but said nothing.

“Thank you.” Sansa thanked the girl sweetly as she took the flowers. These are quite nice. Shall I hold these when I walk down the aisle?”

The girl nodded again. “Your dress is pretty.” A voice came from the back of the group. “Did you make it yourself? Lady Leonette said you did.” Another asked.

“She is right I did. Though Lady Leonette and many others helped as well.”

“Now you’ve seen the dress and given your gift. Out you go.” She began to usher the young girls out of the room. At the door she turned back to Sansa. “Garlan will meet you outside the sept. See you soon.” And with that she left, closing the door behind her.

In the quiet again Sansa turned back to the room and looked around. It hit her then that she would not be returning here tonight. Instead she would join her husband in his rooms. She did not actually know where they were in the keep.

“Kristyne, could you start packing up my clothes and have them delivered to Willas’s chambers? The rest can be moved later. But I would like to have my clothes available.”

“Of course my lady.” With that the maid set off to start packing.

Thoughts of her impending wedding night came back to her. She wasn’t sure what to think about it. Willas was a good man, a knight, a true knight she was sure of that now. They had talked some during her time in the Reach, though not much since the wedding was announced. Still the thought of being intimate with him was strange.

* * *

A page arrived at the door and announced that it was time to depart to the sept. In the hallway Sansa was greeted by an escort of Tyrell household guard. Their armor polished to a shine. Sansa fell into step with them easily and they made their way toward the sept in silence.

Outside the air was still warm for the autumn season. _Winter is coming_ she reminded herself. She wondered how long this upcoming one would be. All she had remembered was summer. Along the way to the sept she passed many banners of the houses that were present for the wedding. A few she recognized from her attempts and learning more about the land her children would rule, but most were still foreign to her.

The guests had already taken up inside the sept when she arrived. Like Leonette said, Garlan was waiting for her at the entryway to the sept. He was wearing finer clothes than usual and he smiled in greeting when he saw her.

“Milady, beautiful as always.” He said as he bowed and extended his arm. “I must say though, you look more composed at the moment than Willas.”

She looked at him surprised. “Willas is nervous” She could not imagine why he would be. He was normally stoic, very much like her father.

“Oh, I haven’t seen him this nervous in years. He wouldn’t stop fidgeting with his cane.”

They walked up to the doors and waited for them to open. When they did Sansa could see that the sept was packed with guests. They all turned to get a glimpse of the bride with red hair they had heard about. At the end of the aisle was a septon and Willas. He did not appear to have his crutches with him but a cane instead.

Garlan lead Sansa down the middle of the aisle. Along the way Sansa could not help but become nervous. Having the eyes of everyone in the building upon her was unnerving.

As they approached the raised altar between the statues of the Father and the Mother, Sansa noticed that Willas had a brace running from just above his right knee to his boot. The cane he held in his right hand was an elaborate gold one. Undoubtedly it was decorated with roses of different sizes.

As he watches his bride draw near Willas straightened his back. She was very beautiful in the dress she created. His mother said it was quite the work. Her red hair was in contrast to the white of the dress. Her skin pale enough that he had to look twice to see where she ended and the dress started.

For his part Sansa thought Willas looked handsome in the dark green outfit he had on. She did notice that he appeared to have a particularly tight grip on his cane.

Garlan came to a halt at the lowest step on the altar. After giving Sansa a small smile he went to retrieve the deep green Tyrell cloak that Willas would drape on her shoulders before standing near Willas.

Willas smiled nervously at her when she stood at his side. They both faced the septon who started the ceremony.

The septon motioned toward Garlan who held the Tyrell cloak in his hand. “You may cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.”

Garlan held out the cloak to Willas who took it in one hand while holding on to his cane in the other. For a moment he looked unsure what to do, trying to maintain his balance and drape the cloak over Sansa’s shoulders.

Discreetly, Sansa made a motion offering to hold his cane. He handed her the cane and readjusted his stance. Sansa slowly turned around so Willas would not have to walk behind her.

With steady hands Willas placed the cloak on Sansa’s shoulders. Sansa readjusted it slightly so it would not fall off before turning to face the septon again. She handed Willas his cane back and he too faced the septon.

“Join hands please.” The septon instructed.

Willas held out his hand and Sansa took it in hers, interlacing their fingers together.

An elaborate green lace ribbon was tied around them by the septon.

“In the sight of the seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for eternity. Now look upon one another and say the words.”

Sansa and Willas pivoted to face each other. In unison they repeated the vows. Evoking the gods and declaring loyalty to one another for their lives.

“You may seal your vows with a kiss.” The septon said when the finished.

Willas looked at Sansa as if to ask for her permission. She nodded in affirmation slightly. Willas was thankful she was as tall as she was, he did not have to bend down to kiss her. He cupped her face with his left hand and pressed his lips to hers gently. When he withdrew Sansa noticed a slight blush on his face and felt it on her own. She did not look away though and smiled at him.

“Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.” The septon loudly proclaimed to the crowd.

At that the whole sept erupted in cheers and applause.

The immediate Tyrell family sat in the front row smiling up at the two. Willas took Sansa’s arm and led her down the steps slowly. They walked back down the aisle and out the sept into the sun.

* * *

At the feast they received each of the guests. They all wished Sansa and Willas a happy marriage and the congratulations. Willas found himself glad they were not able to invite all of the Reach. It would have been tiresome to speak to every lord and lady that they presided over.

Throughout the many courses of the feast neither Sansa nor Willas ate much. Willas made sure to have some lemon cakes on hand though.

“You should eat something.” He offered a lemon cake to his new wife. She took it and proceed to take a small bite out of it.

“If the atmosphere is not to your liking I understand my lady. I prefer our more quite meals that we have had. I can have a plate prepared and sent back to our rooms if you like.”

“There is no need my lord. I am not that hungry. Thank you though for the offer.”

Willas nodded and went back to scanning the room. They seemed to be getting a little rowdier now that the feast was well under way. He knew what that meant. His grand uncle was already drunk and making lewd comments to all within earshot.

Sansa watched her husband observing the room slowly. It amused her to see him looking at the room somewhat like a wolf would its prey.

“My lord?”

Willas looked at her as if he was deciding on what to say.

“I think we will be making our exit soon my lady.”

Sansa paled at the thought of being groped and mauled like that day of the riot. She tried to calm herself. They would not actually hurt her.

Willas noticed her loss of color and sought to calm her. “Not that way my lady.” He leaned in closer to her. “I intend to leave before the … ceremony.” He said the word with a bit of disdain.

She cast a hopeful look at him.

“When Garlan introduces the fire breathers we will make our exit. With any luck, by the time anyone notices we will be long gone.”

Sansa settled back into her chair at the welcome news.

Just then Garth Tyrell stood up, leaning heavily on the table. “My grandnephew has waited long enough.” He slurred. “I say it’s high time he’s been between the legs of a woman. Bed them!” He let out a raucous laugh.

Willas looked pointedly at Garlan. His brother stood up to speak. “Not yet. I’ve arranged for some entertainment all the way from Essos.” He motioned to the doors and they opened to the troop of fire breathers who entered in a ring of flames.

For a moment Sansa was as entranced as the others with the display. It was only Willas’s hand on her own that brought her back. “My lady, if you would.”

She took his hand and rose with him. As quickly as they could manage they exited the great hall, the sounds of the awed crowd behind them.

It was now dark outside. In the castle not all of the torches had been lit along the halls. The servants must have been off at their own celebrations Sansa thought.

The two newlyweds traveled through a section of the keep that Sansa was not as familiar with. The walls were still decorated with green and golden roses. There were still paintings of different Tyrell’s but Sansa was not sure where she was going.

“Are we going to your chambers my lord?”

“Yes, though you can think of them as your own now my lady.”

They finally came to a stop at an elaborate door. Willas detached himself from Sansa and opened it for her.

“After you milady.”

Sansa thanked him and entered the room. The first room she found herself in was an elaborate looking solar. A fire was already going in the hearth and provided light in the room. At the end opposite of the door she had entered was another door. Toward the back of the room on either side walls were another two doors to other rooms.

Behind her Willas shuffled in on his cane, closing and barring the door behind him. “Welcome to our rooms. Or more specifically the common room to our suites.” He walked over to the fire place. “That door leads to my study.” He pointed to the door opposite the entryway. “That one leads to my solar and on to my chamber. And that one,” He pointed to the last one. “Leads to your solar and chamber.”

“It’s a lovely room my lord.”

“I quite like it. Please feel free to add something to it if you want. You can decorate your solar and bed chamber of course as well.”

After that there was nothing but the sound of the crackling fire between them.

Willas licked his lips. “Sansa,” he began. “May I call you Sansa? I would like to be able to call my wife by her name and have her call me by my own when it is just us.”

“You may Willas.”

“There is one other thing I would ask of you Sansa.” Willas looked quite unsure of himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “The consummation. I imagine you have some reservations about it.”

“I will do what you wish of me, I am your wife … Willas.”

Willas glanced at Sansa. A battle started within his head. He had waited years for this, his wedding night. And here he was, with his bride in their suite. His _beautiful_ wife in their suite, near his own bed. She is too young he reminded himself. She was willing. She was his wife, the thoughts came back.

“I would like to wait Sansa. You are still mourning your family and… and we do not yet know one another as well as we could. I would like to get to know you better before we take that step, if you would allow it.”

This surprised Sansa. If she would allow it? How was she to respond to this question? Her septa had told her what was expected on her wedding night. She was to follow her husband’s instructions. Those instructions however were supposed to be in bedding her, not the opposite.

“I… I would like to wait as well Willas.” Sansa relaxed slightly. “Joffrey always told me he would bring … whores to our chambers on our wedding night. He said a dog would not be enough for him. That they could hit me as well.” She rubbed her arms together as she spoke of the unpleasant memory.

Willas’s opinion of the king continued to sink lower. He moved closer to her. “Nothing like that will happen between us Sansa. I will not insult you, or strike you. There will be no other women.”

Sansa did not seem to acknowledge what he had just said right away. His eyes settled on the cyvasse board in the room. He loved games and when he discovered cyvasse it quickly became a favorite of his.

“Have you ever played cyvasse?” Willas asked as he walked over to the board.

“No.”

“It’s one of my favorites. Come.” He pointed to a chair at the small table. “I’ll teach you the basics.”

“It’s a game of strategy,” Willas told her as he set the pieces up. “Each piece has a different function and you have to know how each one works to win.”

Willas and Sansa played the game together. Willas was not trying to win, and had to explain all the possible options she had when it was her turn, but it was a light hearted affair that reminded him of teaching Loras or Margaery a new game when they were younger.

When they had finished the game they both felt fatigue catching up with them from the day’s events. Willas made to stand up after putting away the pieces. “Well, I’m looking forward to some sleep after today. Would you like to retire for the evening?”

“I would.” She did not even try to hide the weariness from her voice, she too longed for sleep. Willas offered her his arm again and she took it willingly. “Would you like to take breakfast with me in the morning,” He asked as they walked to the door to her solar. “I usually arise early, but I may not tomorrow.”

“I would love to.”

When they arrived at the door she expected him to enter with her. Instead he stopped took her hand and kissed it. Bidding her goodnight and walked back across the room to the other door.

As he walked away Sansa entered the room that was her solar. Like the common room before the fireplace was lit and there were ornate decorations around the room. A few bookshelves and chairs adorned the walls. Near the fire was a settee. Sansa thought it would make a perfect chair to doing her needle work on.

The door to her own chambers was covered in carvings of blooming roses on creeping vines that wound around the frame of the door. When she opened it her breath was stolen from her. Inside was a luxurious room. Better than anything she had known in King’s Landing or Winterfell. An elaborate four poster bed sat along one of the far walls. It was draped in greens and stitched with gold. A balcony was also accessible from her room. She could not tell what the view outside was due to the darkness. It seemed though that there was to small chairs and a table. She could read or take her meals sometime outside she thought.

Stopping at a large vanity she took off her jewelry and undid her hair. After stripping out of her elaborate gown and finding a sleeping gown that had been sent from her earlier rooms she climbed into the bed. In the middle of her new lush bed Sansa Tyrell fell asleep quickly.


	8. The High Tower

“Lady Sansa?” Kristyne’s voice calls through the sleep that clouds Sansa’s mind. There is a gentle hand on her shoulder trying to get her attention. “Lady Sansa, Willas has called for food to be brought up. He says if you would like to join him he will wait.”

Sansa pushes up into a sitting position. After rubbing the sleep out of her eyes she finds her maid waiting for her reply.

“Mmm yes,” She says stretching and yawning. “I’ll join him.” When Kristyne leaves to inform Willas that his wife will join him Sansa emerges from the bed and starts looking for a dress. She selects one of the darker colors she has. She will have to find some more now that she is a wedded, if not bedded, woman.

This morning Sansa requested her hair done in a southern style before joining Willas in their shared common room.

He sat at the table that had been prepared with an assortment of breads, cheeses and fresh fruit.

When she neared the table he stood and greeted her. “Good morning Sansa, I hope you are rested this morning.” He gave her a smile.

“I am, thank you Willas. You are rested too I hope.”

“That I am.”

She sat down and worked on fixing a small plate of food for herself while Willas poured her some water. “It’s been flavored with some fruit juice.” He said while pouring her cup. “It’s quite good.”

Sansa did not want Willas to see her as an awkward girl. Only an awkward girl would not speak to her husband while they ate. “The game last night, what is it called?”

“Cyvasse. It’s from Volantis.”

“Do you have any others?”

“Several card games.” He motioned to a book shelf nearby. “If you would like I can teach you them as well sometime.”

“That would be most welcome.”

A question pressed into her mind about the future of Winterfell and the north. If she was the last member of house Stark how was she to rule?

“What will happen to Winterfell now? It is but a ruin.”

“You could rebuild it,” Willas put down the sweet roll he had been buttering. “It may be difficult, but you could govern by correspondence. Unless you would want to …” He trailed off. He did not want his wife to leave he found himself thinking.

“No. I do not want to return to Winterfell. Not at the moment anyway. Perhaps in the future we can go together.” Her tone changed. “I suppose it does not look much like I would remember now.”

“I will again one day.” Willas told her gently.

“Our son will inherit it one day, yes?” She was curious as to his thoughts on the matter.

“Technically our first son would inherit both the Reach and the North. Though,” he continued thoughtfully. “That will prove a challenge for one person. It would be better I think to divide it amongst our eldest sons.”

Sansa nodded thoughtfully, she still had never thought to find herself in this position. But it did make sense to divide the two lands between their children.

“He could take your words and sigil Sansa.”

“I would like that.” She said. It was somewhat of a relief to know that something of her family would continue on. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.

“We will not be able to travel north now that winter is coming.” He smiles at her softly saying the words of her house. “But in the spring father should return from the capital and we can visit there.”

Sansa nodded and smiles back. The thought of returning home filling her with longing and sorrow in equal amounts.

* * *

In the days after the wedding the guests begin to leave Highgarden and return to their own homes. Business returns to normal. Though it is still busy with the harvest starting in full swing. There is much work to do to make sure everyone is ready for winter. Even this far south. Many of the children chatter excitedly in the castle about the prospect of snow. The children of the long summer have never seen such a thing and they eagerly await the approaching winter.

Sansa is occasionally sought out to answer questions by the younger ones about snow and the north. She tells them about building snowmen and having snowball fights before their mothers shoo them away with apologies for bothering her. She tells them it is no bother, for it is not. For she is eager to tell others of the joy and beauty of the North, not the savage backwoods so many southerners think of when the North is mentioned.

She takes up most of her mornings with Lady Tyrell, observing what she does and learning from the older woman what it is to be the Lady of Highgarden. It reminds her in many ways of the duties her own mother preformed, though in a different setting. It seemed there was much more decorum expected in the south when it came to the matters of being a hostess than in the northern regions of Westeros.

Once all the work of overseeing the departing guests and the other matters that had piled up before the wedding had been taken care of Willas had a bit of time to finally relax some. He and Sansa had started taking walks through the many gardens in the castle during the day and praying together in the sept in the evenings. Even though the temperatures were cooling Sansa still seemed unaccustomed to the heat. He wondered if this would always be the case.

Having known the gardens for his entire life Willas sought out the most cool and shaded part he could find. There he instructed the construction of a pavilion and small wading pool. White roses were planted around the edges of the garden. They reminded him of snow and he hopped they would remind Sansa as well. He had to keep it a secret, he wanted to surprise Sansa with it, but he did not want to listen to the good natured jabs his brother would give him over it. Part of him was worried at how quickly he was becoming smitten with his young bride. Garlan and Loras would never let him live it down.

When it finished the wading pool was filled with water. At is deepest it was near waist deep, through most of it was only deep enough to walk through ankle deep water. The pavilion was carved stone from the Three Towers featuring running wolves and roses creeping up the sides. The only thing that remained was to show it to his wife.

That afternoon he sought her out. She was the other ladies of Highgarden working on a bit of embroidery. He entered the room; as usual everyone was already aware of his presence due to the noise his crutches made. “My ladies.” He greeted them. They dipped their heads in reply. “I must ask for my wife’s presence I am afraid.” He looked to Sansa. “Would you join me in the gardens, I have something I’d like to show you.”

Ever the gracefully lady she rose and thanked her husband before excusing herself from the group of ladies. Leonette seemed to be giving them a knowing grin when they departed.

They walked through the now somewhat familiar paths in the garden. When they came to an intersection they turned right. Sansa had never been this way before. “Is it a new flower?”

“No,” he replies. “Flowers are involved though.”

Sansa makes a contemplative noise.

“I don’t think you would show me a new animal here. Is it a new place in the garden then?”

“Warmer, or should I say … cooler.” There is a hint of playfulness in his voice that leaves Sansa excited as to where they are going.

She looks ahead of them and sees the end of this particular path. The end is marked with an array of white roses. There is a covered pavilion that looks like it would seat two or four people at most. It is the ground that has her most intrigued.

“Is this a wading pool?”

“It is. I know the heat has not been the most agreeable to you this far south. I’d hoped this would be a place you could come to when the heat was too much and cool down.”

Now she understood what he meant by cooler. The garden reminded her of her father giving her mother the warmest rooms in the castle for her own. And building a sept even though he did not follow the new gods.

“It’s perfect.” She says wiping the trace amount of moisture from her eyes. When she looks at her husband she sees that his features are slightly concerned.

“My father,” she begins. “He put my mother in the warmest rooms in Winterfell. She grew up along the Trident and did not take to the cold well.”

“Your parents loved each other?” He asked softly. He has not made an effort to bring up her family, not knowing if she wanted to discuss them with him.

“They did, very much. I,” She moved closer to him. “I always wanted what they had.”

“I would like us to have that as well. If your parents were anything like my own.” He held out his hand for her. “I would like us to have that.”

Instead Sansa moved past his outstretched hand and laid her head on his shoulder. Willas dropped his crutches to hold her close. Oh yes, if his brothers could see him now he would never hear the end of it. He was smitten with his wife.

* * *

The announcement from the capital arrived not soon after Willas had taken Sansa to her private garden. As expected invitations to were extended to the royal wedding. Under normal circumstances Willas would want to go to his own sister’s wedding. This was however not normal circumstances. Given his wife’s treatment in King’s Landing he had no desire to return to the city or the king with his wife.

However that was not the worst news that accompanied the raven. When news of Sansa’s marriage to Willas had reached Tywin Lannister, the hand of the king, had gone into small rage. His grandmother wrote with some glee that she was able to cause the old man such a blow. With Sansa out of Lannister clutches Tywin had seen fit to move to keep the North out of Stark hands and solidly allied to the Lannister’s. Roose Bolton had been named Warden of the North. House Stark was in exile now.

Willas decided to talk to the whole family at dinner about the changes, before his mother and brother left for the capital.

“Invitations arrived from the capital today for Margaery’s wedding. It’s to be held in two months’ time. Enough time for travel to be made from here to King’s Landing.”

He looked at his mother who was strangely silent. He knew she did not want Margaery to be anywhere within arm’s reach of the king. Not after what Sansa had told them about the spoiled boy.

“Yes, that would be enough time to make it there.” She finally answered.

Willas spoke to his wife next. “Would you rather not go? If you would not, we can leave now and say that we had already left to visit the Hightowers in Oldtown. I know they would like to see you since they were unable to make it to the wedding.”

“That sounds much more pleasant.” She responded reaching for her cup. “Unless you would like company on the trip Lady Tyrell?”

“No need my dear.” Her goodmother replied. “I know you’d rather not make the journey to the capital. I will be fine. I am looking forward to seeing Mace and Margaery.” She added trying to steer the conversation in a more pleasant direction.

Willas let out a sigh. “That was not the only message that arrived.” This time he could look at Sansa when he told her the news. “Roose Bolton has been named Warden of the North.”

Sansa found she could only be angry at the news. They had taken her family, now they wanted to take her home. The North was not a southern lord’s to give. It belonged to the Starks, to the line unbroken back to the first men.

“The Boltons have been jealous of my family for generations. The north is not theirs. They will only follow a Stark. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.” She fired off in rapid succession before calming herself.

“What do you know of this Lord Bolton?” Willas wondered.

Sansa rested her hands in her lap and tried to calm herself. “His family hails from the Dreadfort. The Bolton's sigil is a flayed man. It is said they still keep the skins locked away in some room of the castle. I only know father did not like to be around Lord Bolton. Neither did I when he was around. He is a strange man.”

Lady Tyrell let out a gasp. “A flayed man, they still keep the skins?”

“I worry for the people of the North.” She faced her husband. “Is there anything we can do? Surely they cannot just throw out my family.”

Willas truly looked sorry when he met his wife’s gaze. “For the time being nothing. With winter closing in and a royal decree…” He trailed off and shrugged. “We will have to wait before we can make a move Sansa.”

“This is the game isn’t it? The one they play in the capital?”

“Yes, yes it is. A game played with lives and kingdoms, but a game none the less.” They lapsed into silence again.

“Shall we leave soon to travel to Oldtown?” Sansa brought up his previous idea of traveling south.

“We can leave tomorrow. I’m sure grandfather Leyton will be pleased to see us. He has not left the Hightower home in years, even before my accident.”

“You will love the High Tower Sansa.” Her goodmother tells her. “There are many large libraries and some smaller gardens that look out over the bay past the port.”

When they arrive in their chambers that evening Sansa stops her husband before he can disappear into his own room. “Willas, do you have a plan about the North?”

He looked at the floor, thinking before answering her. “Some. I’d like to run them by my grandfather first. The Hightower are our strongest vassals. We will need their help in any plan we make.” He came close to her and ran his hand along her arm soothingly. Sansa found she appreciated and welcomed the gesture. “We’ll need fathers’ permission of course. And Margaery to work her skills on the king. But I think we can come up with something.”

Sansa reached up to link their fingers together. “I promise that we will come up with something. You have my word.”

“I believe you,” She brought their joined hands to her face. “I believe you.”

* * *

In the morning Sansa and her maid began packing for the trip to Oldtown. Knowing she will be going further south she selects the loosest and lightest dresses she owns. After the wedding she had started working on some new dresses, but also purchased some new ones. Leonette had been a great help in selecting the latest fashions in the Reach.

In the courtyard the wheelhouse awaits them that they will use to make the journey to Oldtown. A contingent of twenty Tyrell household guard awaited them. The banners of House Tyrell fluttering in the breeze.

Willas awaits her at the top of the stairs, much like the first time she meet him. With him are her goodmother, Ser Garlan and lady Leonette.

“Pleasant journey Sansa and you as well Willas.” Lady Tyrell wishes them.

Sansa hugs Leonette one last time and takes her husband’s arm as they walk down the steps to the wheelhouse. After helping her up into the wheelhouse first Sansa turns and takes her husband’s crutches and stows them on the seat next to her. Willas carefully maneuvers himself around inside and sits on the seat across from her. The door is shut and a command is given. At once the wheel house lurches forward and the sound of the wheels on the stone pavement soon drown out the horses outside.

Sansa watches as they pass through the gates leading outside the massive stone walls of the castle. Once outside they turn south on the Roseroad toward the terminus at Oldtown.

“Have you been to Oldtown before?” She looks toward her husband.

“Several times over the years. I have not been back since my injury though. I haven’t gone very far from Highgarden since then.”

They ride in a comfortable silence for a time. Each enjoying the passing scenery. They pass farms similar to the ones Sansa had seen on the way to Highgarden. They traversed many small streams of running water and through small woods. All the while Sansa still could scarcely believe it was real, that she was to be Lady of it all one day.

“It’s all so beautiful.” Sansa heard herself say out loud.

“It does make a lovely frame,” Willas turned from looking out the window, “for your beauty Sansa.” He finished grinning at her playfully.

Sansa blushed before answering. “I could say the same my lord.”

Willas let out a good laugh. “I think my lady is biased a bit.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“Not at my lady.” He chuckled some more.

Sansa smiled once more and turned back to the passing view.

* * *

Along the way they rested at different inns. They kept separate rooms and if the inn was large enough they shared a suite and took their meals together in the common room. Sansa sat in her room by the fireplace. She had requested some thread and a needle and was working on resewing a button that had come off Willas tunic in the wheelhouse.

A knock sounded from her door and Willas voice came through. She smiled to herself and set aside her work. When she opened the door she greeted her husband.

“Good evening my lady. May I speak with you?”

“Of course my lord.”

Sansa walked side by side with her husband to the coach in the room where they sat down.

“The Northmen, they are very loyal to your family?”

“They are, for the most part. The Karstarks have been a problem in the past.” She recalled the histories Maester Luwin taught her what seemed like many years ago in Winterfell. “So have the Boltons. They fought against the Starks a thousand years ago.”

“A flayed man for a Sigel. You said that you feared for the people of the North?”

“Yes, now that I think about it more. The stories I recall hearing…” She fidgeted in place. “They are terrible Willas.”

“Then you think the northern lords would come to your cause if you pressed your claim on the North?”

“I do.” There was no hesitance in her answer. “House Stark are their overlords,” She says this as if she is saying the sea is wet. “They have followed the Starks since the before the Conquest. They will not bow to the Boltons.”

“Would they react well if you returned north with an army from the south at your back? And a southern husband?”

“They may not like the idea,” She can imagine some demanding she set aside Willas. She will not she thinks, she is fond of Willas. “But I am a Stark. The North will only follow one of Stark blood.”

“Is that your plan? To lead an army north and get the northern lords to rebel?”

“In a nutshell, yes. There are still a lot of details to work out, but that would be the short of it.”

“It will work,” she says. “It has to work.”

* * *

Sansa can see Oldtown from their wheelhouse long before they reach it. It is vast. She imagines it is as large, if not larger than King’s Landing. She is still amazed at the sheer size of the towns in the south. They dwarf their counterparts in the north. She can see the High Tower, its signal fire lit as a beacon to guide ships into the harbor.

Unlike the smaller towns they passed through on their way to Oldtown, the people of the city seem to pay them no heed. Even though they bear the banners of House Tyrell the wheelhouse had to fight for space on the crowded streets to a dock in the bay.

When they crossed the first canal Sansa is glued to the window looking out. The buildings they passed were all grand looking. She can find nothing to compare it to the relative squalor she saw back in the capital.

“I’ve never seen so many people before.” Sansa says amazed.

“The oldest settlement in Westeros. They’ve had years to build up to this. You’ll not find another city on the continent that has as many people packed inside its walls.”

Sansa continues to stare at it all.

“A little overwhelming, isn’t it?”

“It is. Your mother grew up here?”

“The Hightower to be exact, but yes. Ask her sometime about the rat in market.” He says with a smile. “She’s still scared of it, even all these years later.”

* * *

Eventually the road ends at a long pier with the banners of House Hightower displayed. Several Hightower knights as well as members of the Oldtown city watch are present.

“Looks like my great uncle is here, Moryn Tyrell. He’s in command of the city watch.”

When the wheel house came to a stop the door was opened by an older man with Trell curls. “Willas!” The man greeted his great nephew as he helped him out. “Uncle!” Willas embraced the man. Turning back to the carriage he accepted his crutches from his wife before assisting her down.

“Uncle Moryn,” Willas said, addressing his uncle once more. “This is my wife, the lady Sansa of House Stark.”

“My lady.” The older man bowed. “Welcome to Oldtown.” He studied her for a moment. “House Stark you say?”

“Yes my lord?”

“You have the Tully looks about you. Haven’t been north of the Neck, but the Tullys I did see in the Riverlands were remarkably like you.”

“My mother was of House Tully.”

“Ah. You have my condolence my lady. What the Frey’s did…” He shook his head. “The gods will pay them back in kind.”

“But you Willas,” He addressed his nephew with a sly smile. “The only vows I’d think you would take would be in a monastery.” He let out a laugh.

Willas gave him a lighthearted frown.

“Congratulations to the both of you.”

Moryn led them down the pier to a boat that awaited them. It was then that Sansa could examine the enormous structure that rose up from the bay before her. Perhaps the word enormous was not enough she thought. The High Tower was aptly named. It seemed to support the sky with its height. At the top burned a large fire that had been the first thing she had seen of the city from far away.

They boarded the boat and sailed for the rocky outcropping at the base of the tower. Another pier jutted out of the rock. On that pier was another small party waiting for them. Willas noticed his uncle Baelor among them. The ship bumped the pier when the docked. Willas fell slightly forward at the motion. Quickly Sansa caught him and steadied him back on his crutches. Willas quickly thanked her and made for the ramp. Trying to forget the feel of her hands on him.

The two made their way down the ramp and were greeted by Baelor Hightower himself. “Willas!”

“Uncle Baelor!” Willas embraced the man, Sansa followed close behind. “May I introduce you to my wife,” He extended his arm for Sansa. “Lady Sansa of house Stark.”

“Lady Sansa.” Baelor gave a bow. “Malora will be a bit cross with you.” Sansa gave a look at Willas. “She was hoping to have Willas here have a try at the longest unmarried member of the family.”

“She will have to accept my apologies then my lord.” She said pressing herself closer to Willas. “But I will not be prevailed upon to give up my husband.” She finished with a faux dramatic air.

Baelor burst out in laughter, slapping Willas on the arm. “Wherever did you find such a woman from the north?”

“She came to me uncle.” He said with a shrug.

“You’ll have to tell me all about it.” He motioned for them to follow him up the stairs. “Come, I’ll see you settled in. You can meet father at dinner in a few hours.”

Baelor lead them through the myriad of stairs that made up the lower part of the tower. They had to take is slower due to Willas and his crutches, but no one seemed to mind. The rooms they were taken to were on a lower level of the tower itself. They looked out onto a small garden and the fortified wall surrounding the base of the tower was just beyond. From here Sansa could not see the bay, but she could hear the gulls as they flew overhead.

The room they occupied was similar to their own in Highgarden. A common room with two separate bed chambers off to the side. Her husband sat on a chair on the small balcony off the common room. Sansa noticed her husband trying to rest his leg in a comfortable position. Frowning she went back inside to seek out a stool. Finding one she returned and placed it by his feet.

“Thank you. Did you mean what you said earlier?” Willas lifted his damaged leg up on to the stool and settled back into the chair. “About not wanting to set me aside?”

His tone is light and curious. “Yes.” She says while pulling a chair closer to his so they both face the garden below. The sun is setting off in the distance and the mood is quite relaxed. “I am quite … fond of you.” She looked off into the sun, hopping any blush would be obscured by the light. Instead she felt his hand on her own.

“I am as well Sansa.”

* * *

They spent the rest of the time before dinner discussing were the various sailboats in the bay were traveling. Enjoying the carefree chatter of one another.

In the dining hall that evening introductions were once again made to Lord Hightower. The older man was pale, Willas had told her he had not left the tower in years, and it showed. He was an extremely talkative man and did his best to make Sansa feel welcome in his home.

As dinner came to a close Lord Hightower’s wife, Rhea, took Sansa on a tour of the gardens around the base of the tower. The men went to a drawing room to discuss politics of the realm.

“I believe you said you would tell me how such a lovely young woman just,” Baelor made a motion of falling from the sky. “Came to you in Highgarden. Did you not ask her their?”

Setting his crutches down on a couch he maneuvered his body down next to them. “No, I had never spoken or written to her before I meet her.”

“I know you haven’t had many suits these past few years.” His grandfather said. “But she just decided to come out to Highgarden?”

Willas settled into the couch to start the story from the beginning. “She was betrothed to the king once. That was why she was so far from home, in the capital. I’m sure you know the story of her father, and now her lady mother and brother?” The two men nodded that they had.

“Given that,” he sighed. “The king was not kind to her. Garlan tells me the king ordered his kingsguard to beat her in front of the court. She has told me of some of the vile things he threatened her with during her time in King’s Landing. Margaery, or perhaps my grandmother, put the idea of marriage to me in her head. Garlan smuggled her out of the capital and on to Highgarden. And,” he raised his hands “Here we are.”

“Your sister is marrying the king now. I take it that’s why you are here and not in the capital?” His grandfather asked.

“You would be correct grandfather. I have no desire to take Sansa back there. There is also something else I wanted to discuss, with you both before I take it to father.”

The two men looked interested by what Willas had to say.

“With Sansa the last surviving member of her house the North is hers. The king though, or more likely his grandfather, has appointed Lord Bolton as Warden of the North. Exiling my wife from her home.”

“You want to retake the North?” Baelor interjects.

“Yes. It is my wife’s by right and blood. From what she has told me, to say the Boltons are not loved in the North is an understatement.”

“The Northmen will rally to her, is that what you plan on?”

“Partially, I hope they would. With her as the surviving member of House Stark returning to the North with a southern army to reclaim her home. A southern army that I will need your help assembling.”

“This plan sounds like something the Queen of Thorns would come up with.” Leyton says.

Willas nods. “She may have gotten this started by arranging our match, but I’m inclined to agree with her. The North is my wife’s and we cannot let the Lannister’s run over the whole of the continent. With the Westerlands, the Riverlands and the Crownlands under control, they are already making inroads into the Stormlands and the Vale. It’s too much.”

“I never liked Tywin Lannister.” Lord Hightower spoke up. “He tried to offer that imp of his for one of my girls.” He spat.

“Have you any idea what the northern lords would say to Sansa’s claim?” Baelor asked.

“Not yet. I’m still not sure what we’ll do about Lord Bolton either. We would need passage through the Riverlands, Sansa’s uncle is still a prisoner. I’m also not keen on invading without a royal decree stripping him of his title first. I had ideas about Margaery perhaps pressuring the king, but …”

“It’s still away off.” Baelor finished for him and Willas agreed.

“What’s your wife’s words, winter is coming?” Leyton prompted.

“Winter is coming.” Willas repeated back.

“Well, winter is coming. All of this will have to wait until the next spring. Traveling north now would be suicide for an army.”

“Agreed.” Willas said “I fear General Winter would be more of a threat than Lord Bolton. If I went to father with this you will back me?”

Lord Hightower and his son exchanged a glance. “We will Willas. We’ll help you plan and take it to your father. Shouldn’t be too hard. Not with that harridan mother of his and you to convince him.”

Willas smiled. He could sense a plan finally coming together. He looked forward to telling Sansa later.

* * *

The stars were visible when Willas made his way back to the balcony of their rooms. Sansa was standing out looking at them, her head tilted up and auburn hair falling down her back. His heart jumps up his throat as he watches her. She turns though, likely hearing the sound of his crutches, and smiles when she sees him.

He joined her on the balcony, coming to stand at her side. “Did you enjoy the gardens?”

“Oh yes, Lady Hightower was most welcoming.”

Sansa turned to him a hint of worry visible in her eyes. “Will they help?”

“They will.” He assured her. “When we get back to Highgarden you can start writing to the different lords in the North, try and see if they will follow you instead of Roose Bolton.

“Small steps.” She said, gazing back up at the stars above.

Willas watched his wife and replies. “Small steps my lady.”


	9. Foundations

Sansa and Willas stay in the High Tower for another week. During that time Willas meets with Lord Hightower to discuss other matters of importance to Oldtown and the Reach as a whole. His grandfather tells him about the Ironborn. There have been increased raids along the shipping lanes of the Sunset Sea. The Old Man of Oldtown is worried for the Shield Islands and even Oldtown itself.

Willas agrees to send a raven to Lord Paxter Redwyne to check on the Arbor’s fleet. He hopes they can be deployed north to the Shield Islands to check any raiders. The possible threat of pirates in the Sunset Sea makes him rethink his offer to take Sansa over to the Arbor. It’s a beautiful island that he knows she will adore, like everything beautiful they have seen on their travels so far.

Willas contemplates returning to Highgarden. Enough time has passed that by the time they are able to make it back it will be too late to make the journey to the capital. Father and Margaery will have to give their excuses to the king and queen mother. Instead Willas seeks out his wife, curious as to what she would like to do.

He finds her in the common room of their suites. Working on a piece of embroidery she intends to give to a newborn back in Highgarden. Willas wonders vaguely if she will sew their own children’s clothes. 

When he sits down she looks up from her work. “I must admit Sansa, I’m at a bit of a loss as to what to do next. I think we can return to Highgarden, if you’d like. I doubt the king can reasonably expect us to make it to the capital now. I had intended on visiting the Arbor, but the situation in the Sunset Sea is precarious at the moment.”

“That’s alright.” She gives him a smile. “In the capital Margaery told me about the pleasure barges that travel up and down the Mander.”

“Would you like to ride one back to Highgarden?”

“If you think it would safe.”

“We could take the Roseroad north, closer to where the Mander is, and travel by barge to Highgarden.”

“Sounds like a plan.” His wife responded cheerily. 

* * *

A raven is sent with instructions to prepare a barge for Willas and Sansa on the Mander. Two days later they are set to leave the High Tower and travel north.

At the lower levels of the tower Lord Hightower wishes them farewell.

“You and your wife are welcome here anytime you need Willas. And you my lady,” He faces Sansa. “Know that House Hightower will support you in your claim to the North.”

“Thank you my lord. It is good to know that there are still honorable men in the realm. And that I may now count you among my family.”

“Likewise my lady.” He offered as deep a bow as his body would allow.

Sansa once again took in the views of all the ships crisscrossing the bay when they made for the mainland. She wondered what the barge would be like. It must be peaceful though she thought. The large city of Oldtown, while nice, was very active. A more quiet time on the Mander would be very helpful.

The troop of Tyrell guard that had accompanied them to Oldtown awaited them on the pier, along with the wheel house. Willas assisted Sansa up into the wheelhouse and she in turn offered him to take his crutches. Willas missed the knowing smiles some of the knights had.

The wheelhouse was given the same disinterest in the streets of Oldtown. Once again they jockeyed for room to travel in the crowded streets. Sansa knew if she was with Joffrey, he would have ordered the kingsguard to beat the smallfolk out of their way. Like he had ordered on the day of the riots. She suppressed the thoughts of that day. She was not there, and they could not hurt her. _He_ could not hurt her.

With the city finally behind them and out of view Sansa took the time to talk to her husband about some of his hobbies. She knew he kept horses, having already gifted her one, but she learned about the hawks he kept as well. The two swapped stories about the different animals in the south and the north until she fell asleep. The inns they stayed at were the same as before when they had come south. The inn keepers seemed most pleased to see them again. Undoubtedly because of the amount of Tyrell gold spent on housing and feeding the entire entourage.

* * *

It was still morning when they turned onto a smaller road off of the Roseroad due north toward the Mander. Willas told her they would arrive at the river by late that afternoon and they did. The wheelhouse halted in a small village. The local smallfolk had come out to see what the clamor was about. While use to seeing highborn barges traversing the river, they usually did not stop in the village.

When Willas helped her out of the carriage she could hear the whispers of her name and Willas’s on some of the assembled peoples lips. As Willas was closing the door to the carriage a mother approached the ring of people that had formed around the guards.

“Milady… lady Sansa?” The woman asked her hesitantly.

Sansa walked over to the woman who seemed to have a young girl clutching to her skirts.

“Yes, is there something I can do for you?”

The woman eyed the two Tyrell guards that moved beside Sansa. “My son milady,” she bent down into the dirt. “He’s been ill, and the healers want payment to treat him. My husband is still working the fields and won’t be back for another month. He’ll bring his pay with him then, but I have nothing right now.”

“Willas.” Sansa called to her husband. “This woman needs money for medicine.”

Her husband strode over on his crutches. “Money you say?”

“Yes, for her son, he needs medicine.” She gave him an expectant look.

Willas reached into his tunic and retrieved his money bag. Extracting a few silver coins he handed them to Sansa. Sansa in turn gave them to the woman who had tears in her eyes at the gift. The woman seemed unsure how to show her thanks and backed up bowing all the way thanking the Tyrells and the gods profusely. Sansa waived at the small girl before turning back to her husband.

As they walked toward the awaiting barge tied at the dock Sansa thanked her husband.

“Thank you Willas.”

The barge itself was a large with canopies set up along the deck to act as shade against the sun. It was large enough to boast a second deck that housed the cabins they would sleep in.

Sansa led Willas closer to the bow. Eyeing two elaborate chaise lounges she walked over to them. After helping Willas down onto one and storing his crutches nearby, making sure to keep them in arm's reach, she sat down on the one next to it.

Refreshments were served soon after the barge pushed off the pier. An assortment of flavored waters that Sansa found she had a difficult time choosing which to have.

Willas works on some correspondence that he has been keeping up on only halfheartedly during their time away from Highgarden. Sansa reads one of the books of poetry she brought with her.

When she turns the page of her book she notices Willas put his roll his letter up and put away his writing utensils. He looks at her as if he has something to say. When he is not forthcoming she puts her own book away.

“Willas, is there something on your mind?”

“The child earlier, and the infant clothes you’ve been working on recently.” He pauses and seems to examine a knot in the wood of his lounge. “Do you want children Sansa?” He asks looking back up at her. “Not because of the fact that you are expected to.”

“I do.” Came her soft reply. Motherhood had been something she had wanted for as long as she could remember.

Willas nodded but did not reply. Sansa had come to expect this somewhat in their conversations. Willas seemed to do most of his talking in his own head, only saying something after he had thought it over for a time.

“I take it you would like children.” Sansa blushes. “Did you want to…?”

“Oh, no. I’m mean, yes, no, not right…” Willas pauses for breath and closes eyes for a second. “What I mean to say is yes I would like children, but I do not mean to press you until you are ready for all that it entails.”

“I know Willas.”

Willas seemed to relax a little at her reassurance. “Most think me impotent from the accident. So I suspect the gossips will have a ball talking about us.”

Sansa did not like the idea of others constantly wondering about what she and her husband did, or more accurately did not do, in private together. She thought back to what Lady Tyrell had told her the day she found out her last remaining family had been killed.

“Your accident, how long had you been a knight?” She asked trying to change her course of thoughts.

Willas laughed mirthlessly. “Not long. It was my first tourney. I was knighted a month prior.” A far off look appears on his features as he speaks. “I was _so_ nervous about the whole thing. I had hoped to only do a few tourneys and go back to learning how to manage the Reach. But I ended up more a boy playing at knight than anything.”

Sansas rebuke is swift. “Knights are brave, honorable, and good.” Her gaze is fierce, something Willas has rarely seen in his young wife. “You are a knight.” She adds with finality.

He does not argue with her. Though he thinks her definition of a knight and his are two different things. A knight is meant to follow his lord into battle, something Willas will not be doing. He can ride, he has a horse specially trained by himself, but he will not be riding into battle.

An uneasy silence falls between husband and wife, neither knowing what to say. By the time they take dinner and head down to their cabins for the evening they are tired from all the traveling and sleep soon takes them.

* * *

Pleasant is the word Willas would use to describe his time on the barge with his wife. They spend their days above on the top deck. Sansa makes sure to keep to the shade so she will not burn; her fair skin and hair do not take kindly to the sun.

He continues to spend part of his time working on letters to send off to different lords of the Reach when the stop by a town. For her part Sansa is nearly finished with the infant clothing she has been working on.

One afternoon Willas is in the middle of describing the different planting techniques employed along the river’s edge when he realizes he knows where they are.

“This orchard. I think I know where we are. Garlan and I played here during the summer.” He strains his head to look over the bow. “Past that next bend,” He points out. “We’ll see Highgarden.”

“It will be nice to have our own beds again!” His wife exclaims.

“That it will.” Willas finds himself replying, lacking the obvious joy Sansa is displaying. The thought of his wife no longer being a single door away bothers him; which makes him bothered all the more.

Another wheelhouse awaits them at the dock and takes the future lord and lady of Highgarden the short distance into the castle. While it is not yet home, Sansa takes comfort in being back some place familiar. In the square before the keep only the seneschal of Highgarden is present to welcome the arrivals home, the rest had left for the capital and Margaery’s wedding.

“About time you got back.” The fat man grumbles at them as they step down from the wheelhouse. “We all can’t go gallivanting off with beautiful women.”

Willas ignores him the best he can. “Is there something you need uncle? Traveling makes my leg ache and I have little time for small talk.”

Willas can tell his father’s uncle wants to bite back but thinks better of it. Instead he calls a servant forward who is holding what appears to be a blanket. Willas looks at the item with confusion.

“This arrived. Compliments of the king.” He adds.

The servant holds out and unfurls the blanket. On it is an elaborate scene sewed into the wool. Willas is almost sorry someone had to sew such an item with care that he will not keep around. For on the blanket was a scene of a dire wolf lying in a bed of roses asleep with a menacing lion and stag watching above it.

“Burn it.” Willas says dismissively. “We supply the king's’ army, his food and his wine. Not to mention the fact he’s marrying my sister. He will do nothing regarding my wife.” The fact that he will be goodbrothers with the king makes Willas’s stomach turn. “Is there anything else uncle?”

“With winter approaching the watchmen on the Roseroad are requesting funds for new horses.”

Willas started up the steps to the keep, his wife and great uncle following. “The last time they requested new horses was what? Two years ago?”

“It was.”

“Release the funds, a reasonable amount, that they need. Oh, and uncle. Could you have a map table set up in the smaller study? The one that overlooks the fountain. And put the largest map of the continent you have on it would you.”

The older man huffed. “Day dreaming again are you?” When Willas was young he would pull out all the charts and the maps of the Reach he could find and imagine what the different places would be like. Brightwater would have lights under the water in places he imagined. And Cider Hall would be full of mugs of apple cider.

“No, planning for war uncle.”

“War!” The seneschal tottered up the steps faster so he could turn and look at both Willas and Sansa at the same time. “Where, with whom? The men mustered for the king have just stood down.”

“The North uncle, against the Boltons. And we aren’t going to war just yet. Not until the spring.” Willas continued past his uncle who looked at Sansa for further explanation. She offered none and followed her husband inside leaving a puzzled seneschal standing in place.

* * *

With only Willas and Sansa as the only immediate family members of house Tyrell in Highgarden, the duty of running the castle and by extension the whole of the Reach falls to them for the time.

While most of the courtly ladies are in the capital, Sansa oversaw the remaining women as they arranged the upcoming harvest moon ball. With any luck the rest of the Tyrell family would make it back in time. At least Willas hoped they did. He knew that as lord of Highgarden he would be responsible for presiding over the feast in his father’s absence. His father had always enjoyed them more than he did and he hoped they would take this one burden off his shoulders.

They were unable to spend as much time together during the day, taking walks and such, as they had. Willas found that he did not like this new turn of events. He had taken well to having another in his life quickly and missed their lazy conversations.

A map of Westeros was placed in the study like Willas had requested. Arrayed on it were markers denoting the current strength of the Reach and best estimates of the North. The Rebellion occurred when Willas was just a boy of seven. Maps had been displayed the master study with the different houses, loyal and rebel. The dragons of the Targaryen’s had felt so ominous to him then. Now he looked at markers denoting the flayed man of the Boltons with similar unease.

“Which ones do you think are the most loyal to your house?” Willas asks his wife, who joined him when he was working on planning the invasion.

“The Mormont’s, Reed’s, Manderly’s are the ones I trust the most. The rest will follow too Willas, the North is loyal to the Starks. Except for that traitor Bolton.” Hisses Sansa.

“Then you should write them first. Ask if they have the strength to fight come spring again. If possible see if they can get a count of how many men Roose Bolton has. How many horses, the state of their equipment and morale.”

“What about the Riverlands and my uncle? We will need to cross his lands and he is still the Lannisters hostage.”

“Hostages can be ransomed. It’s my hope that the richest family in the whole of Westeros will be interested in acquiring even more gold for his return.”

“If they don’t take the gold?”

Willas smiles faintly. “Then we cross that bridge when we come to it.”

* * *

The news arrives when Willas and Sansa are enjoying breakfast together in the gardens. The page hurries up to them and hand Willas the note while Sansa looks on curiously.

At first Willas seems only slightly interested in the note, that changes rapidly.

“Willas?” Sansa’s voice is cautious.

“He’s dead. The king is dead. He died at the wedding feast, choking on his own spit.” He hands the note over to Sansa. Sansa reads for herself that Joffrey is dead.

“Margaery is safe then.” She states softly.

“Yes,” Willas says, reaching for her hand. “And so are you.”

Willas drums his fingers on the table. “I knew she wouldn’t let the monster near Margaery.”

“What?”

“Grandmother. I bet grandmother had something to do with it. She wouldn’t let Joffrey touch Margaery,” He looks back at his wife. “Not after what you told them.”

Sansa smiles to herself. Happy to have helped her goodsister. And pleased that _he_ is dead. She knows she is supposed to feel sorrow at the passing of a king, especially one so young. But she does not. He was a monster, and the world is better without him.

* * *

Another raven arrives later in the day. This one tells of the arrest of Tyrion Lannister for killing his nephew and how the Tyrells plan to stay on in the capital while Margaery mourns her husband. Willas can’t help but laugh aloud at the notion of Margaery in mourning clothes for the king. But he knows his sister will play the part of a widow well.

Knowing that his family will not return in time for the harvest feast is somewhat of a disappointment. One he does not share with his wife, because she has wrapped herself so much up in the preparations that he cannot bear to make her feel like work she is doing does not make him happy. While lavish feasts and parties have never been for him, he does take immense joy in watching his wife fuss over the floral arrangement of the great hall.

The dishes for the multiple course meal had been selected and now Sansa turned to decorating. Willas watched from the entryway as a small group of ladies followed his wife around the castle handing her different colored flowers that she placed on the tables to find the perfect look. Given that they were an arranged match Sansa was slipping into the role her role as future Lady of Highgarden with ease.

Outside the castle the last of the harvest was well underway. Everyone from the lowest of the small folk to Willas was helping out in some way. The orchards and flower fields around Highgarden were in a flurry of activity. Carts of fruits were constantly going in and out of the castle gates to storehouses within. Grains from further out of the castle also arrived. Once the snows fell the only things growing would be in the hothouses. While Highgarden’s were not as elaborate as the hothouses in Winterfell, they would provide a constant source of fresh items through the winter. There was even a small one for flowers. Sansa could not help but shake her head when Willas told her. Only in Highgarden would space be set aside for flowers.

Inside the castle the noble ladies chattered endlessly about the upcoming harvest moon ball. According to the citadel the moon would appear the next day. The tables had been set out in the great hall and benches lined the whole of the walls around the room. Inside the green banners of the Tyrell’s as well as smaller banners of the lords of the Reach were hung in the room. The raised dais that would seat Willas, his wife and other important members of Highgarden was draped in green.

* * *

The day of the feast Sansa’s handmaiden helped her get dressed. Kristyne held up a dress for Sansa to inspect. “Oh, not that one I think. How about the green one, with the gold threading. Willas liked that one the last time I wore it.”

Kristyne gives her lady a knowing grin. “Willas liked it milady?” She singsongs.

Sansa refused to blush. Instead she opens the jewelry box she brought with her from King’s Landing. In it were some pieces her mother had bought her. She selects a necklace and puts it around her neck, small dire wolfs intersected by moons and stars.

With her hair done Sansa stands and walks through the doors to the common room. Before her stands her husband, without his crutches but instead a brace and cane by the fireplace. When she enters he turns and Sansa can see his eyes enlarge and his mouth hang open for a moment. The moment is brief and Willas composes himself quickly.

“My lady,” he bows to her, a slight edge to his voice. Sansa truly is a sight to behold. Her red hair in contrast to the green of her gown, her pale skin the more obvious due to the deepness of the green. “You look… lovely this evening.”

“Thank you my lord.” She returns his bow with a curtsy of her own. A sly grin on her face that Willas instantly recognizes from spending time around Margaery.

They walk side by side into the great hall. The room rises for them until they make their way to their seats and take them.

Willas addresses the crowd before them. “Loyal friends and bannermen. Lady Sansa and I welcome you to Highgarden and the harvest feast.” Every eye and ear in the room strains to listen to their lord. “I’m sorry to have broken the long summer by bringing a lady of winter to the Reach.” Willas smiles at his wife as the chuckles ring out through the room. “So it’s entirely my fault. Please accept this meal as my apologies.”

With that a few cups are clanked on the tables and the people cheer as they begin to eat.

“I thought you didn’t like these?” Sansa leans in whispering to him.

“I don’t, not particularly anyway,” he shrugged. “But I’d be a poor lord if I didn’t at least act like I did. But my lady’s presence makes it more enjoyable.”

“Only so you can blame me for winter?” She asks in mock annoyance.

“Among other things.” Came his cheeky reply.

* * *

As the feast wound down Willas stood from his chair and held his hand out for Sansa. The band was playing on the mezzanine and some of the far tables had been pushed to the side. Willas excused them both from the table and led her to the stairwell that went up to the residential levels of the keep. She thought he was returning them to their rooms, so it took her by surprise when he stopped on the mezzanine.

He led her to a small room off the mezzanine that Sansa had no idea what it was used for. Inside he did not close the door so the sound of the band still playing entered through the open doorway.

“Willas?”

Her husband looked around nervously for a moment. “I was hoping my lady, that you would grace me with a dance. Or as poorly as I am able.”

“Of course Willas.” There is the brightest smile on Sansa’s face. Willas vows that he will do whatever he can to see that smile more often on his young bride.

The two do not dance in the way that many would. They more swayed back and forth to the music in each other’s arms then danced steps around the room. Still, both man and woman relished the feeling of holding their spouse close.

When the music finished and did not start up again Willas let go of his wife and stepped back. To his surprise she did not allow him and pressed closer once more.

“Willas.” Her hushed voice is so close. Given her height she does not have to look up to him.

“Yes.” He murmurs.

Her blue eyes flicker between his lips and his eyes.

He knows what she’s asking and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it to. It’s the first kiss they’d shared since their wedding. And unlike that one, which felt so voyeuristic, this one carries more meaning.

They only stop when Sansa pulls away with a slight gasp. Willas turns quickly, nearly tripping over on his brace to see one of the musicians, pale faced and wide eyed, standing in the doorway. Several other appear, all carrying their instruments.

Willas kicks himself. Of all the rooms to choose on this floor he chooses the music room.

“My lord…and lady… I didn’t know… I would never…” The man looks positively sick with worry.

Willas holds up his hand. “It’s nothing. Please, return your instruments. If anyone is at fault it is I.”

After offering his arm to his wife the two leave the room as quickly as they can. She is quite red as they climb the stairs to their chambers. When they enter their chambers Sansa lets out a laugh. “The future Lord and Lady of Highgarden, caught kissing in a room like mischievous youths.”

Willas laughs with her. “I hope I have not sullied your reputation my lady.”

“Not at all my lord.”

They look at each other for a moment before Kristyne enters the room. Glancing at her handmaiden Sansa looks back to her husband. “Good night Willas. I will see you in the morning.”

“And to you as well Sansa.” And with that he watches as the two women disappear behind the door.

Willas spends most of his waking hours that night remembering the feel of her lips on his.


	10. War Plans

While Willas had felt they were growing closer during their trip to Oldtown and back the night of the feast seems to have been a tipping point. During the evenings when they sit together Sansa no longer sits in another chair. Instead she sits on the same couch as he does. They sometimes spend hours going over their favorite books or something new they have just read.

When the raven arrives from the capital announcing the imminent marriage of Margaery and king Tommen Willas is not surprised. Margaery was not going to give up on being queen just because the two kings she married were dead. The marriage was going to be held only a week away so they were not expected in the capital.

“Tommen is a sweet boy.” Sansa told her husband. “He’s nothing like his brother.”

Willas has never met the new king, but trusts his wife’s word on the young king.

“He will not mistreat Margaery.”

Father writes them that the Tyrell family will be returning to Highgarden now that Margaery is wed again. Only Loras will remain behind, he was joining the kingsguard. The whole trip should take a month and they will make it well in advance of any snows.

“Does it snow much this far south?” There is a hint of longing that Willas can detect in Sansa’s voice.

“Some. More than Oldtown for sure. But not as much as they will get in the capital. I remember there being enough to play in growing up. Garlan and I would have snow fights out by the stables.”

“Arya loved to fight with Robb and Jon growing up. I don’t expect there to be as much snow as in Winterfell, but I do hope we get a proper snowfall.”

* * *

A page interrupts the two taking lunch in the garden a month later when the approaching troop escorting the returning Tyrells. Sansa and Willas take places at the top of the stairs of the keep. They watch as the courtyard erupts in a display of Tyrell banners carried by horsemen and the wheelhouses containing their family.

The doors to the lead carriage are opened and Mace Tyrell nearly stumbles out.

“Oh, my back.” The man grumbles while bending backwards to stretch himself. Sansa puts a hand to her mouth to stop herself from laughing. Willas doesn’t even bother.

“Mace.” Lady Tyrell calls softly from inside the carriage.

Lord Tyrell turns quickly to his wife. “Oh, my dear, allow me.” They smile at one another as he helps her down from the carriage.

From the other wheelhouses emerge lady Olenna as well as Garlan and Leonette. The couple's link arms and ascend the steps, with lady Olenna complaining about something all the while.

“Welcome home father, mother.” Willas greets his parents with a bow.

“It is good to be back.” His father says while looking around the castle. “This must be my goddaughter,” His eyes fall on Sansa. “I’m sorry we were never introduced in the capital. The hand of the king kept me busy during our time there.”

“There is no need to apologize my lord.” She offers a small curtsy.

They great the rest of the family in turn. Sansa is overjoyed to have Leonette back, even if she will soon leave for Brightwater Keep with Garlan.

* * *

The family eats dinner in the family dining room. It is the first time they have all been together, save for Margaery, since the armies of the Reach marched to King's Landing to relieve the city.

The women are eager to discuss the harvest ball. Alerie Tyrell is pleased and proud of the way her goddaughter acquitted herself.

As the dinner comes to a close Lady Tyrell leads the ladies toward one of the sitting rooms to continue their conversation. Sansa’s eyes meet her husbands before he nods for her to follow the others.

He approaches his father and brother instead.

“Father. I was hoping to discuss a matter with you tomorrow. It’s of some importance. I’d like you there as well Garlan,” he makes sure to address his brother. “Can you meet me in the study overlooking the fountain sometime before lunch?”

“You have the letters don’t you.” Sansa and Willas are walking through he keep to the study on the floor below them.

“I do.” She replied.

“Good, I’m sure he’ll take your word for it. But I like to be prepared just in case.”

Sansa smiles to herself. It’s one of the things she’s come to love about her husband, his thoroughness. Love? Did she love him? She does, the reply comes back in her own mind. She wants to tell him. Tell him that she loves him. But know is not opportune. She will have to wait until later, when they are in their own chambers. She wants no distractions, just the two of them when she tells him. It will be like something out of a song she thinks, and then corrects herself. No it will be better than a song. It will be real. It will be Willas and it will be real.

“Here we are.” Willas pulls the door to the study open to find that his brother and father are already present.

“Ah, father, Garlan.” He greets the men in the room.

“What’s all this?” Lord Tyrell motions to the map before him.

“What I had planned on discussing with you.”

“Bolton’s, Manderly’s,Tyrell’s, Hightower’s.” Garlan points to the different pieces displayed on the map. “Planning a war brother?”

“A war? In the North? Whatever for?” Lord Tyrell stuttered.

“My wife’s home father. Winterfell and North is hers by blood. The Lannisters are seeking to deny her this while they move to secure as much of the rest of the seven kingdoms as they can. The Crownlands, the Vale, the Riverlands, all allied to Tywin Lannister. They mean to strangle us father. We cannot allow them to.”

“Grandmother has been harping on him about the same thing all the way home.” Galan said.

“I wouldn’t worry about Tywin Lannister anymore.” Mace mumbled more to himself.

Willas was confused by this. “What do you mean?”

“He’s dead. Shot by the imp as he escaped. Apparently he went after his father on the way out. No one knows where he is now.”

Willas sat down. “The fools!” he blurted out. “It was Tywin Lannister who named Bolton Lord Paramount of the North. With him dead, the queen brooding over Joffrey we can get Margaery to have the king reinstate the Starks as rulers of the North.” He turned to his wife. “You’ll have to swear loyalty to the crown most likely.” He added with a hint of sympathy.

“I’ll do it. If that is what is needed to see my family restored to the North… then I will do it.”

“All right, so you get the king to sign off on removing the Boltons. How do you get there?” Lord Tyrell motions to the Riverlands. “The Riverlands aren’t the most hospitable place at the moment.”

“We’ll need Sansa’s uncle. He’s still the Lord of the Riverlands, only he’s…”

“Imprisoned in Casterly Rock.” Garlan finishes.

Sansa moves to stand near Willas. “Can we ransom him?”

“We can try.”

“The army you plan on taking north, have you a plan their as well?”

“The Hightowers will support us father, you know that, I’ve spoken with Grandfather and uncle Baelor. They both have pledged support for our efforts. It you call our banner men I’m sure the rest will follow.”

The older man makes a noise of agreement. “Our losses were not so much at the Blackwater. And we didn’t engage in any battles prior to it. They’ll follow if I call them.”

Willas has no doubt their bannermen will follow his father, he’s loved throughout the Reach. Not for his military skill but the peace he’s presided over for the most part these years, especially after the rebellion when they were against Robert Baratheon.

“You have an army, a route north and the legitimacy, what else is there?”

“None of this can happen until the spring. We can’t go north just yet. I also would like to start working on equipment to take north. Our men are use to fighting in the south. We’ll need provisions, warmer clothing, siege equipment. The winter can be put to good use preparing our men.”

“Also,” Willas puts his hand over his wife’s. “We won’t be doing this alone. Sansa has written to several northern lords. They support her claim to the North and will rally to our cause against the Boltons. With luck we’ll not have to fight most of the Northmen. And they’ll give us the strength and location of Bolton’s men.”

“Oh, lady Sansa, you impress me. Thinking ahead, very good.” Lord Tyrell addresses his goddaughter cheerfully.

“Very well Willas, I approve of this plan of yours.”

“I think you should give Margaery some time to work on the king, as much as I loath to think about it.” Garlan said.

“It’s the game Garlan.” Willas said with an equal amount of loathing. “There’s no hurry anyway.”

“We’ll get my uncle out first, right?” Sansa speaks, concerned for her uncle Edmure languishing in a Lannister cell.

Lord Tyrell squinted his eyes. “Can we afford to?”

“The harvest was good father. One of the best we’ve ever had. So we have plenty to spare, even with the shipments to the capital. We have the gold too, should they suddenly be interested in that as well.”

Willas leaves the meeting feeling good. The meeting went good, better than expected even. Tywin's death and the Lannister infighting would only help them. Without their more powerful allies the Boltons would not be able to stand against them.

* * *

When the family gathers for dinner that evening the meal goes quietly for a while until the Queen of Thorns began voicing her displeasure with her grandchildren. Willas felt the eyes of his grandmother boring through him and he did his best to ignore them. Finally he met her gaze. “Grandmother.”

“You haven’t bedded your wife.” The blunt words roll of her tongue.

“And what _grandmother_.” He grits the word out. “Would make you interrupt our dinner with such a statement.”

“Oh come now Willas, surely you know that the washing maids gossip below stairs about your bedding.”

Willas takes the napkin that had been folded in his lap and places it on the table. “That’s no concern of yours or the maids.” Sansa, he noticed, is doing her best to act as if the weather is being discussed.

“Grandmother I do not-“Garlan tries to stymie the conversation before it can go any further.

“And you Garlan. You’ve been married longer and you have no heir either. Does the entire male line have no wish to continue the house? “

Garlan does not let her overpower his words. “Grandmother!”

Normally Garlan was an even tempered person. But there was no small amount of anger in his composure Willas noted. Leonette however looked down at her plate and seemed to be close to tears.

“We are not Dornishman and discuss such matters at the table. I suggest we drop this.” Willas tries his best to end the topic.

His grandmother looked about to continue her verbal assault when his mother spoke up.

“I think we’ve had quite enough for this evening mother. Let us retire for the evening before anything is said that someone will regret.”

“Don’t call me mother Alerie, I’d think I’d remember giving birth to you.”

The Tyrells went their separate ways with that for the night. Garlan hurried Leonette to their chambers. When they entered their rooms Willas turned to his wife to apologies for his grandmother.

Instead Sansa held up her hand to stop him. “I know, Willas. It’s not your fault for what she says.”

“It’s not her place.”

“I know.” Sansa embraced her husband, her hands gently rubbing up and down his back. He relaxed into her, content to marvel at the feel of her.

His wife it would appear had other ideas. She pulled his head away from her neck so she could look at him properly. “I love you.” She says softly, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “I love you Willas.”

Willas’s heart soars at her words. “And I you Sansa.” He murmurs when he realizes that she is awaiting a response from him.

Without Kristyne present to assist with her undressing and taking down her hair Sansa contemplated letting her husband help. “My hair, would you help me take it down?” Sansa is surprised by how calm she sounds, even though she is inviting her husband to her room.

Sansa lead her husband through her solar and into her room. He seemed a bit unsure of himself; this was her sanctuary after all. After retrieving a brush from her vanity she motioned for Willas to join her.

He approached and she took his crutches from him and placed them against the wall. Without saying anything she pulled up a second seat behind hers and sat down facing away from him.

He’s not entirely sure of how to take down hair, he is no ladies maid. But he does his best. Her hair is soft and the color so vibrant under his hands. He has long thought her hair easily the most striking feature on his wife.

“Rose oil?”

“Yes, there is so much available here, I like to use it over the others.” Sansa replies in reference to the scent in her hair.

“If there is another you would like to use you may Sansa, we want for nothing.”

“I know. The scent is pleasant enough and seems fitting for a lady of Highgarden.”

When he finishes brushing out her hair, which seemed to go by too fast for his liking, he hands the brush back to Sansa.

Sansa rises and turns to him. “Thank you.” She is fidgeting now with her hands, they tumble one over the other. Willas takes this as his cue to leave.

“Good night my lady.” He stands and moves to the door. “Sleep well.”

Sansa seems a bit confused now herself. “Good night my lord.” She says softly.

The thoughts and dreams of either are muddled that night.

* * *

The next day Sansa seeks out Leonette. She hopes they can play the harp together today. She’d worked on her musical abilities with Leonette when they had first arrived at Highgarden and she wished to show Leonette her skill.

She found the woman she was looking for looking out over the flowers of the garden, a faraway look in her eye.

“Leonette?”

“Oh, Sansa. Hello. I didn’t hear you.” Leonette puts on a mask of normalcy.

“We haven’t played the harp together in some time now. Do you have time?”

“I’m not feeling up to it Sansa.”

Sansa walked closer to her friend. Neither woman spoke at first. “Last night, what lady Olenna said … we mustn’t take it to heart.” Sansa tried to console her friend. Not sure what was causing her sadness.

Leonette let out a shaky breath. “It’s one thing to think something yourself. It’s another to have someone say it out loud to you.”

Sansa didn’t follow her statement. Leonette picked up on it and continued. “We’ve been trying now. For over a year.”

Oh, oh that is what she is so upset about Sansa thought. She couldn’t imagine being in such a position. Everything she had been taught was about avoiding getting with child until married. Not being unable to do so. The whole idea had never occurred to her.

“I don’t know what to say.” Instead she drew closer to her friend and embraced her. Leonette’s shoulders started to shake as her tears fells. Sansa led her to a nearby stone bench and held her while she wept silently.

When she had finished Sansa offered her friend a reassuring smile. “Sometimes when I cry I go find Willas. Do you want to go to Garlan?”

“No,” Leonette wipes her nose and eyes with a small handkerchief. “He’s busy right now.”

Sansa nods understandingly. “How about we go to the sept then?”

Leonette agreed and the two women made for the sept where they spend the rest of their time until lunch praying before the mother.

* * *

Over the coming months the weather continues to change. The sky loses is blues and shifts to grey. The days become shorter and the temperature drops with it. Highgarden looks so different Sansa thinks from when she had arrived only months before. Winter has finally come.

Along with her husband she has been sending letters to different lords. To the lords of the North she asks for their support, for information on the man would call himself the Lord of Winterfell. She does not ask for the Karstark’s loyalty, she knows that Robb took the last Lord Karstark’s head and does not trust them. The rest of the lords though, they seem eager to welcome her home.

As Sansa anticipated the Manderly’s, Reeds and Mormont’s are her strongest supporters. When she and Willas march north, they will rally to join their cause. The more she learns about Roose Bolton the more she comes to hate the usurper. She may even hate him more than Joffrey on some days.

For his part Willas has amassed support for an expedition north. At last count he could count on nearly fifty thousand men on foot and twenty five thousand more on horse.

Supplies are being stored in preparation as well. Sansa has requested that furs from the North be shipped south in exchange for grains from the Reach. Caches of supplies are set up along a route north toward the Riverlands to lessen the burden of the passing army come spring. Willas did not want to seem the conqueror when they moved north and set about using the winter to build up enough grain stores to see them through to the north and hopefully would sustain some of the army during the campaign there as well. Moving grain north would put the Reach on a more rationed system of grain than usual, but they all hoped the winter would be short.

The plan was to muster their forces around Bitterbridge, as they had for King Renly, before setting off north. They estimated it would take three months to build up all the required men. As before Willas negotiates some payment for the inconvenience of having their lands used as a military camp.

This itself could not take place though until the first planting had taken place. The lords they would need the support off could not afford to forgo the first planting of a new spring.

This time when a raven arrives from Casterly Rock Willas is pleased to give his wife the good news that the Lannisters have in fact agreed to ransom lord Edmure Tully and his wife, who was pregnant.

“Sansa,” he breathed. “Sansa, look” He handed his wife the note.

Sansa is unable to keep the tears from running down her face. At least some relation of hers will be safe and free.

“They’ll make the exchange along the border, on the Ocean Road.” Willas says as he pulled his wife close to him.

“He’s coming here then?” Sansa wiped her face with the back of her hands.

“Yes, both him and his wife.”

Sansa does not know much about the Frey woman and is not sure she likes the fact that she will be arriving in Highgarden.

* * *

There was a frost the morning that the wheel house arrives in Highgarden bearing the Lord of the Riverlands and his wife. Sansa had only met her uncle once when they first came south. The man who exited the wheelhouse was indeed her uncle, but he was thin and not nearly as vibrant looking as he had been.

The man helped a pregnant woman down behind him, who could only be his Frey wife. He took his wife’s hand and the two made their way up the steps to the assembled crowd of Tyrells.

“Lord Tyrell,” Lord Tully dipped his head. “My thanks for paying the ransom for myself and my wife.”

“Think nothing of it. Wouldn’t want a fellow lord rotting in a dungeon now would we?” Lord Tyrell beamed as though Edmure had only suffered a broken down carriage.

Lord Tully turned to his niece and caught his breath. She looked ever so much like her mother. She stood next to the man who was her husband, the crippled Tyrell knight. “Sansa.” He opened up his arms for her. She fell into them. “Uncle, it’s so good to see you alive.”

When they separated Edmure turned to his wife who approached them shyly. “May I introduce my wife, Roslin.” The woman tried to curtsy, but Lady Tyrell stopped her.

“There’s no need dear, come we have rooms ready for you. You must be tired after your journey.”

“That would be welcome my lady.” Edmure sighed.

* * *

The next day Willas and Sansa visited the Tully’s in their suite. Roslin was resting at the time so the three took their lunch together instead. Sansa seemed very pleased to have her uncle present and conversation between the two flowed.

“I have to admit lord Willas, I was shocked when I learned you were paying for my ransom. A little more so when I heard you married my niece.”

“I wish I could say I had completely altruistic intentions my lord. While I would have sought to free my wife’s uncle I must confess we did have some need for you.”

This seemed to have piqued the man’s interest. “Need of me you say?”

“Yes, uncle.” Sansa took a breath. “The Tyrells are going to help me press my claim on the North. When we march to Winterfell we will need passage through the Riverlands, it would be helpful if we could count on your support to do so.”

“I don’t think there’s much I could do to stop you.” He eyed his food dejectedly. “The war was not kind to the Riverlands.”

“Still,” Willas said. “We have no interest in upsetting more lords than necessary. I would rather have your permission before moving an army through your lands.” He was silent for a moment before he continued. “There is something else…”

“The Frey’s” his wife continued for him venom in her voice.

Her uncle held his hand up. “Sansa, not all of them wanted anything to do with that. And I will not have you rope my wife in with her father.”

“Fine, not your little Frey. But you cannot let them get away with it uncle! They dumped mothers’-“

“I know what they did!” He hissed. “She was my sister. I know what they did.” He sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. “I know what needs to be done with them. But you must let me handle Walder himself. He is my bannerman and his punishment falls on me.”

“Our army will march north in the spring. We would like to set up supply routes north through your lands. So as not to be a burden to your people as they rebuild.”

“Very well. With the snow's arrival I won’t be able to move against Walder Frey until then anyway.”

“We will offer our support uncle in removing him.” Sansa says.

Edmure looks first at his niece and then to her husband who nods. He sits back in his chair and closes his eyes. Another war he thinks to himself. He’s seen enough to last for the rest of his life.

Lord and Lady Tully do not stay long; they mean to make it to Riverrun before the heavy snows set in. With a heavy heart Sansa bids her uncle farewell one grey morning and watches as the wheelhouse leaves the courtyard on its way north.

* * *

Sansa and Willas have developed a routine at night now. He will come to her chambers and comb out her hair for her before bidding her goodnight. Occasionally the two will kiss until either one is breathless. Sansa finds she is coming to enjoy this, she is sure her husband does as well.

She knows she wants to be closer to Willas, the way a husband and wife should be. The only thing is she does not know how to tell him that she is ready, not without sounding like some woman of the night in her mind.

She briefly considers asking her handmaid, but decides against it. Instead she goes looking for Leonette, her palms already sweating from the thought of having such a conversation with her friend.

“Leonette?” Sansa knocks lightly on her friends solar.

The door opens to reveal her friend. “Sansa.” She smiled and pulled the younger woman into the room. “I know we’ve been a little lax on the harp recently. I hope to get some more time in with you before we leave.”

“I do too.” Sansa bit her lip and tried not to fidget too much.

“Sansa? Is something wrong?”

The two women sit down before the fire. Sansa gazed into the flames. “No, nothing’s _wrong_. I just…”

Leonette waited patiently for the other woman to continue. “You and Garlan are… well…. Intimate and I… wondered” By now Sansa was blushing beet red.

“Wondering what?” Leonette had a slight pink glow of her own.

“How do you tell him that you want to… Sansa gave a wave of her arm. “Willas told me on our wedding night that we could wait until we got to know each other more. And I do, _we_ do.”

“Have you told him yourself?”

Sansa shook her head. “I’m not sure what to say.”

“Come,” They stand up, Leonette leading Sansa back out the door. “Perhaps you can show him.”

They backtrack to Sansa’s room and approach her wardrobe. “May I?” Leonette asks. Sansa nods.

After pulling open the doors Leonette flicked through some of the sleeping gowns Sansa has. She let out a slightly disappointed noise. “These can work, but they are not the best.”

“What do you mean?”

“While I have no doubt Willas would like you in any of these,” Sansa turns red. “You could use something a little different.”

Sansa looked at her sleeping gowns. They are all practical, white cotton meant to be comfortable to sleep in.

“I know.” Leonette shuts the wardrobe. “Let’s pay a visit to the dress maker. I’m sure she can come up with something.”

At the seamstress’s the three women poured over different colors. Sansa selected a pale purple Naathi silk for use. The final look Sansa settles on is one that comes to her knees, she can’t imagine one riding higher on her body, and is not as loose as her other gowns. The seamstress said it will show off her figure better, Sansa could only swallow and nod at the suggestion. The final piece she will receive is a wrap to cover up with, both for modesty and to keep the cold out. When she leaves with Leonette the seamstress tells her to return in three days for her gown. She hoped Willas will like it.

With her new gown in hand, Sansa enters her chambers, she had given the night off to her handmaid, desiring to be alone with her husband. Leonette was with her at the moment.

“Would you like me to help with your hair?”

“No thank you, I like it when Willas takes it down.” Sansa blushed at the admission.

Leonette instead helped Sansa undo the myriad of strings on the back of her dress. Once they are loose she moved to the front of Sansa and took her hand. “You’ve nothing to be afraid of, remember that.”

“I know.” Sansa gave Leonette a genuine smile.

“Now I’ll go see if I can pry your husband away from his maps downstairs.”

When Sansa was alone she removed her dress and puts on the gown and wrap. After folding away her previous gown she crossed her solar and the common room to Willas’s solar. She’d been in this room on occasion. Sometimes they shared a meal or just company here. She’d never been into his room though.

She hurries through the room, the floor was cold on her bare feet. She hoped there is a fire and warm rug inside like there is in her own chambers. She kept all the doors open so she can hear when Willas arrives. Most likely he will think she is still on the other side of their suite.

The emotions she goes through are as varied as they are changing. She is anxious, nervous, excited and timid. All in quick succession. But most of all she wants Willas. Willas’s room is somewhat sparse. There is a writing desk as well a bookshelf. She notices a white sheet over an object in the corner of the room. When she looks at it some more she realizes it is most likely a suit of armor. Probably Willas’s armor from his days as a knight. No, he is a knight she thinks. He is a knight, because Willas is kind and chivalrous and pious like a knight should be.

She picked up on the door to the common room opening and closing. Then the soft sound of Willas’s crutches as they moved across the floor in a constant beat. She had come to love that sound, the sound of her husband drawing near.

“Willas?” She called from his room, unable to hide the nervous tilt in her voice.

“Sansa?” He called back. Puzzlement in his own voice.

The beat of his crutches came closer. She moved to stand by the bed, hands clasp demurely in front of her.

“What are you-“Her husband’s sentence stopped when he sees her. His mouth slackened a little.

“Good evening Willas.” She played with the edge of her wrap. “I… I was hoping you could help with my hair.” The reasoning is a farce the both know. Sansa could think of nothing else at the moment.

Willas smiled at her. “Of course.”

She retreated to the bed and hesitated.

“It’s alright, we can sit here or at the table if you prefer.” Willas would prefer the bed, for several reasons.

“No, here is fine.” She climbed onto the bed and sits, her legs underneath her.

Willas had to look away as he sets his crutches against the wall, the sight of his wife, all red hair and pale skin, on his bed waiting for him is enough to make him shake with want.

He took off his coat and shoes, stripping down to his small clothes and moved to the bed. He drew the outer curtains closed. They were sheer and still allow air through, but provided an increased sense of privacy. When he’s on it, he moved to the middle of the headboard. Sansa watched his every move and he was suddenly quite aware of his leg.

When he was situated he spread his legs and patted the space between them. “Here. Let me take your hair down.”

Sansa slowly crawled toward him and turned around. When she was close he reached out to wrap his arms around her. She held onto him as he pulled her closer. He took his time with her hair, for they had all the time in world, why go fast? Sansa leaned back into him as his hands undid the elaborate braids.

He nuzzled into her neck when he was finished, causing Sansa to shiver. His hands ran across her back and he could feel the slight difference were he hits the scars there. Anger flashed through him at the thought of someone hurting his Sansa. He brought his lips to one and kisses it. Sansa sat up straight in his arms. He finds another, which was disturbingly easy to do, and repeated the gesture.

Sansa turned with unshed tears in her eyes. The look he gave her is one of understanding. Slowly she shifted from his arms and bent to his ruined knee. There she planted a kiss of her own. When she lifted back up she settles into his open arms.

“On our wedding night you said we could wait for this.” She took his face in her hands. “I’m ready.”

He brought her face to his so he can kiss her. “So am I.” He murmured against her lips.


	11. Winter is Coming

After that night Sansa moved into Willas’s room. Her wardrobe was brought in, containing most of her undergarments and night shifts. She would still use her own room for changing and storing her gowns. She also brought her vanity and jewelry as well. If he was not busy, Sansa preferred her husband to take off any necklaces she was wearing. It gave the couple an innocent enough excuse to share touches.

Another person who took, too much in Sansa’s opinion, notice in their new sleeping arrangement was lady Olenna. The queen of thorns had informed them that she approved of their decision to “act responsibly.” Sansa was mortified when the older woman had said as much at dinner several nights later, setting off another round of biting words between the queen of thorns and Sansa’s husband.

As the cold seeps even further south, reports of snow in the northern parts of the Reach make their way to Highgarden. At first Sansa is hopeful it will snow in Highgarden. As usual though, thoughts of snow turn into thoughts of her family.

As she sat in her and her husband’s bedchamber she looks out through the glass doors to the darkening sky. In her short time in Highgarden she has become content. She was even happy she thought. But how can she be happy when her family is dead. She was experiencing so many new and wonderful things in Highgarden that her family never will. She cannot write to her mother and ask her about deciding when to bear children, or to her father and tell him about all that she has seen. While she was happy with Willas and misses her family, the most she feels at the moment is guilt. Guilt at being happy for even a while.

When Willas entered the room she is still by the doors, sitting in a chair and looking out the window despondently. She has gone through this some in the past few months Willas knew. He knew all too well how she feels in a way.

“Sansa?” Willas called from the doorway. She turned and smiles, though it does not reach her eyes. Willas walked over to her. She stood when he was close, her hands clasp before her. Willas had a worried look on his face she notices. Sansa did her best to appear cheerful.

“Is something wrong?” She heard Willas ask.

“No. Yes… No.. and that’s the problem.” Sansa doesn’t make any sense to herself. Willas took her and lead her to the bed where they sit down, making themselves comfortable.

“Sansa?” He asked again.

Sansa sighed, her shoulders sagged. “I’ve been happy for a while now.” She met Willas’s kind gaze. “And I feel like I shouldn’t. How can I be happy when… when they are all gone?”

Willas gathered his wife into his arms, she went willingly. Together they laid down side by side on the bed. “I think when we lose something violently, suddenly, we do not want give it up. Because choice what taken from us as well.”

“Like your leg?” Sansa noticed Willas looking at the suite of armor in the room.

“Something like that. I don’t wish to imply that my injury is any way like what happened to your family.”

“I worry about forgetting them.” Her voice came out small and scared. “That I’ll forget the sound of my mother’s voice, or the way Robb looked. If I forget, who will remember?”

“You won’t forget that they loved you. And that you love them still. No one can take that from you Sansa.” Willas hoped it would help calm her fears. What little he could say he would do. Afterwards he helps his wife into a sleeping shift and they curl up into bed together. Him holding her close through the night.

* * *

Even though the continent is in the grips of winter the Ironborn did not seem to care. News arrived of attacks in the Shield Islands by raiders flying the banners of the Greyjoy’s.

“Greyshield was attacked first, followed by Greenshield. The Redwyne fleet was anchored in Southshield and meet the raiders in battle.” Willas read off a report from Paxter Redwyne to his father. “Several longships were destroyed with a loss of one dromon.”

“Those fools, the Greyjoys.” Lord Tyrell fumed. “You told Paxter to move to the Shields didn’t you.”

“I did father. Grandfather was worried about the possibility of raiders in the Sunset Sea. It looks like he was right.”

“They’re taking a risk, raiding during winter like this.”

“They may plan on us not being able to strike back at them. And they’d be right. We can keep them off out people though. The Redwyne fleet should be enough to protect the Shield’s. We may need a larger fleet to patrol the rest of the coastline in the meantime.”

“That’s a good idea. It’ll give some work to the smallfolk along the coast as well during the winter.” Lord Tyrell looked at the map of Westeros on the table. “They normally stick to raiding merchant ships out at sea, they haven’t attacked on land for years. Why now?”

“Who knows, it doesn’t make much sense father. First the Greyjoy rebellion, then attacking Winterfell,” Sansa had explained in no small words once that she hated Theon Greyjoy for what happened at Winterfell. “And now this. I think Lord Greyjoy is losing control of his people. That or he’s gone mad.”

“We do not sow.” His father scoffed. “The only thing they’ll sow is retribution.”

“Father?” Willas was a bit surprised by his father’s insistence. Mace Tyrell was not known to be one of the best military minds in the seven kingdoms.

“We can’t let them continue this.”

“I agree, we owe our vassals protection. Though, at the moment we’re doing the best we can. Do you have something in mind?”

Lord Tyrell came to sit down in a chair by his son. “Like you said before, we can’t do anything in this weather, especially up north.” Willas puzzled over his father’s meaning of up north.

“We can fund the construction of additional vessels. Then when spring comes around, just like you’ll lead an army north, a fleet will head north to the Iron Islands to put an end to this madness. I’ll write to the lords along the coast to start building. And to Paxter, he can oversee the campaign when it comes time.”

Lord Tyrell leaned back into the chair looking older as he relaxed.

“Sounds like a good idea father. I’m sure the Redwyne’s will enjoy the chance to put an end to the Ironborn threat.” He watched as his father closed his eyes. He was starting to notice how old the man looked now, especially in the light of the fireplace. His father was starting to doze off it seemed.

Willas stood and walked out to the hallway. He was met by his mother there. “He’s inside,” He said, nodding to the study door. “Sleeping at the moment.”

“I’ll get him up.” His mother replied. “If he goes to sleep down here he won’t come to bed till midnight. And then he’ll complain about his neck being sore.”

Willas laughed and wished his mother a good night before heading up to his and Sansa’s suite.

* * *

When he entered their chambers Sansa was already in bed and waiting for him. She smiled when he approached the bed to sit down.

“Busy day?” She asked.

Willas nodded and stripped from his outer clothes to change into something more comfortable for sleeping. When he had done so he pulled back the covers and slid into bed beside his wife.

“There were attacks in the Shield Islands by the Ironborn.” He tells her. “They were driven off, so everyone is safe now.”

“The Greyjoy’s?”

Willas nods in affirmation. “Come spring father wants to take the fight north to them.”

“Good.” Sansa said with no hesitancy. “They deserve it for burning Winterfell.” Willas knows there is an unspoken _and killing my brothers_ in there as well.

“It’s starting to seem like we’ll be at war with the whole realm come spring.” Willas tried to make a joke.

Sansa snuggled up to Willas’s side. “I know we have to, but I wish we didn’t have to go to war.”

Willas wrapped his arm around his wife. “I know.” He kissed the top of her head.

“At King’s Landing, during the battle… I was terrified. And I wasn’t even fighting.”

Willas looked at his wife. She’s never talked about the battle of Blackwater bay. Everyone knows now that it was the battle that crushed Stannis. But at the time that was in doubt. The combined Tyrell and Lannister armies were on a forced march to the city to try and make it in time.

“What did you do during the battle?” Willas was curious, though he hopes she was as safe as possible from the fighting, even as he held her.

“I led the other women in some hymns and prayers. The queen didn’t seem to care for it though.”

“She didn’t?” Willas isn’t really surprised, the queen regent has never struck him as a devoted woman.

“No. She mostly sat around and drank while she mocked everyone around her.”

“You sing?” Willas has never heard his wife sing before. He imagined it would be like everything else she does and is, beautiful.

“My septa taught me. I’m good at it, or so everyone has told me.” She added modestly.

Images of Sansa singing to their children jump into Willas’s mind. It is a scene he would like to see one day.

“I remember the wildfire. It was green and lit up the whole sky like a great green sun. We could see it from the keep.” She traced idle designs on Willas’s hand with her finger while talking.

“I remember hearing of wildfire as a boy; the mad king was obsessed with it.”

“Apparently the queen had been building up a stockpile under the city.”

Willas started thinking more about the wildfire. If they could get their hands on some, it would make fighting in the north much easier. A substance that could burn through most anything would be very helpful. The queen had been stockpiling some? Perhaps a store of the substance still remained, or at least the ability to produce more. And his sister was queen now; she may be able to help procure some.

“Do you think there is any left?” He asked his wife.

She looked up at him perplexed. “I don’t know. You want wildfire?”

“If we had some, it would be a definite advantage retaking the north.”

“You want to burn Winterfell!” Sansa shot up in his arms with alarm.

“Oh, no, no, no!” Willas assures her. “We may never need it, but I think it would be something good to have on hand. At least to use as a bargaining chip with Bolton.”

Sansa settled back down into Willas. “I wouldn’t mind if the Dreadfort burned, or the Twins, or Pyke.”

Willas drew Sansa closer and they lay down eventually drifting off to sleep.

* * *

The winter continued on and Sansa received more ravens from the north. Plans were made to have the lords in the border regions near the Riverlands head south to meet the advancing southern armies when they approached. The other northern lords would converge on Winterfell, likely when they were called by Roose Bolton. There they would hopefully be able to catch most, if not all, of the Bolton’s men off guard and secure a quick victory.

They had promised to accept Sansa as the head of house Stark and rightful ruler in Winterfell, with her son to follow her. Unless a miracle occurred it was likely that Sansa would be the last member of the Stark line to bear the name. Her second son would establish a cadet branch of house Tyrell in Winterfell. While he would take her father’s sigil and words it was depressing to know that in a way the Lannister’s had extinguished the Stark’s from Westeros.

Trade between Oldtown and White Harbor opened up clandestinely. Shipments of food went north and fur made the return trip south. In smithies and armories across the Reach swords, shields, and armor were fashioned for the upcoming war. Furs from the North were crafted into warm coats to protect the men of the south on their journey to depose the Bolton’s.

As Willas had promised, supply depots were established to feed the army of the Reach in the Riverlands. Letters from Riverrun brought word that the bannermen of Edmure Tully were also preparing their best for a march on the Twins.

* * *

Willas sat in the study that contained the map of Westeros, the war room they had come to call it, along with his father, brother, and wife.

“Nearly thrity thousand men on foot, mostly armed with polearms and some four thousand trained archers. Five thousand men-at-arms. And two hundred shipbuilders from the Arbor. All with plenty of camp followers and supplies.” Willas read over the latest report on the forces ready in the Reach.

“And how many men from the North then?” Lord Tyrell spoke from the comfortable easy chair by the fire.

Willas looked to his wife. “The North has ten thousand men still loyal to my family my lord.” She gave the answer he was looking for.

“And not loyal?”

“Roose Bolton has six thousand men in Winterfell, most of his men.” Sansa explained to the room.

“I think it’s time to write Margaery.” Willas says from where he was sitting. “Ask her to get the king to renounce Lord Bolton. I also want to ask for wildfire.”

“Wildfire?” Both his father and brother asked.

Willas mealy nodded to them.

“What do you want to do with wildfire?” Lord Tyrell was flabbergasted by his sons ease with the subject. The mad king burned so many during his last years on the throne with the vile concoction.

“I wasn’t planning on doing anything with it at the moment. Just keeping it on hand should the need arise?”

“The need arise?” Garlan fixed his brother with an incredulous look. “Willas I saw what it did at Blackwater bay. The bay was still burning the next morning in places.”

“Exactly. I’m not planning on torching the North. But, if need be the overwhelming size of our army plus the weapon that smashed Stannis at the Blackwater will ensure the Bolton’s will fall. They know the land, they’ll be fighting a defensive war and everything we’ve learned about the Bolton’s suggests they will not just step aside.”

Willas reached for one of the map markers and toyed with it. “No one has actually invaded the North and won. They bent the knee before Aegon could bring his sisters and their dragons to bear on them. The Bolton’s betrayal put an end to the Lannister threats of invasion, the Greyjoy’s were driven out by the Bolton’s, and they also stopped Stannis at the walls of Winterfell. I don’t intend on being the same.”

News had arrived, albeit slowly, from the North of the defeat of Stannis Baratheon in the battle of Winterfell. Willas had reviewed every last bit of information they could when they had learned of his defeat to avoid a similar outcome.

“You think she can do that?” Sansa spoke up.

“She’s gleeful every time she mentions how the queen is running in circles trying to get her son to listen to her instead of Margaery. She has the king wrapped around her finger.”

“So like Sansa and you?” Garlan laughed at his brother’s expense.

Willas responded with an even stare. “I could say the same about you and Leonette, brother.”

Garlan laughed all the more. “You could.”

Willas looked to his father who was unusually quiet. The man had not taken an active hand in planning the coming war, but as Lord of Highgarden everything depended on his say.

“Then write your letters. Should the crown release wildfire to us I’ll have Ser Humfrey travel to the capital and collect it.” The man took a poker and stuck it into the fire, causing embers to shoot up the chimney. “All we need then is for the winter to end.”

Willas looked out the window to the snow that had built up on the window. His father was right; all they had to do now was wait.

* * *

The amount of administrative tasks fell during the wintertime. When he was not assisting either his father or planning for the upcoming conflict, Willas had time to enjoy the winter snow. While he had seen snow in the past, many of the younger members of the castle had not. His wife in particular seemed to relish the snow, a bit of the North in the far south.

From the window Willas watched as several children ran screaming around in the snow. Occasionally one would stoop down and gather snow in their hand to hurl at one of the other children. Their joyous cries echoed off the keeps high walls.

Willas stepped out into the snow, first testing it to make sure there was no ice underneath it before proceeding to walk down one of the paths. Snow covered the shrubbery and trees along the path. He wound his way toward the godswood but did not make it far, Sansa had been spending time their recently.

What he saw brought a smile to his face. Inside the small garden not far from the keep and still within hearing of the laughing children was his wife. She was wearing fine furs to keep her warm against the cold air, her glorious red hair splayed out against the dark of the fur. She was sitting on the snow working on a snow castle. With a stick in her hand she appeared to be smoothing out the top of one of the walls.

He approached her and she looked up to see him. Smiling as she continued to work on her masterpiece. Willas laid his crutches down in the snow, the made a soft noise as they sank into it. Then, rather awkwardly, he dropped down into the snow beside his wife.

“Careful.” Sansa cautioned her husband, her arms coming out to catch his fall somewhat.

“A castle my lady?”

Sansa studied it some, placing the stick atop one of the turrets like a flag.

“Winterfell.” She says finally, not taking her eyes off the snow castle. “Sometimes, I can close my eyes and feel the snow on my face.” She closed her eyes and turned her face toward the weak sun. “It’s almost like being back in the courtyard.

A pack of children ran by screaming and throwing snow at each other. Sansa and Willas both watched on with smirks. “At least some things are the same in the North as they are here. Ayra would always torment us with snow.” A child scooped up an armful of snow and promptly dumped it atop another’s head, causing the recipient to shake like a dog trying to get dry.

“I remember a time when I was six. Garlan was not much younger than me and it had just snowed. We went out to play some in it.” Willas laughed ruefully. “I packed a snowball too tightly and hit Garlan with it. He fell over, and started to wail. I got a proper scolding from mother for it.” He said shaking his head.

“Well, unlike you,” Sansa struck a regal pose. “I was a complete lady when I was a child, and I still am.”

Willas drug himself across the snow closer to his wife. He brushed some snowflakes off Sansa’s head, tucking some strands of hair behind her ear. She did her best to ignore the motions. Choosing instead to work on carving a door out on the wall of the snow castle.

“Always a lady?” His voice caressed her like his gentle hands would. “I seem to recall several nights-“Willas was abruptly stopped by snow flying into his face.

Sansa looked on at her husband sputtering and rubbing the snow of his face with a grin.

Willas placed one of his arms across Sansa’s legs so he could trap her, in response she back in the snow. “Is that how a proper lady acts?” He asked, his gaze darkening somewhat on her.

Sansa reached up and pulled Willas down carefully to her. He readjusted himself and ended up laying partially on top of her.

“It’s how your lady acts.” She whispered coquettishly before kissing him.

* * *

The next raven from King’s Landing was from Margaery. Willas and Sansa are sitting in his solar by the fireside reading. Inside the letter is news that Willas was not expecting, at least so soon. Sansa can see the surprise on her husband’s face.

“Willas?”

Willas puts the letter down and looks to his wife. “She did it. The king will sign a proclamation declaring you Lady of Winterfell again. He’ll also give us fifty cases of wildfire.”

Sansa felt a little lighter once again. Once again she was Lady of Winterfell. The title she had not wished to possess before was hers again.

“The queen mother must be beside herself.” Sansa couldn’t help but smile at the thought of queen Cersei fuming.

True to his word, though neither Sansa nor Willas doubted him, Lord Tyrell dispatched Ser Humfrey Hightower to King’s Landing to oversee the return of the wildfire. When the man had arrived in Highgarden her was surprised to say the least as to his mission. A detachment of forty men at arms were selected to accompany the precious cargo on its way to be stored at Bitterbridge.

Progress was slow due to the snow, but Ser Humfrey returned several months later with an ornate box in his hands. Inside were several copies of a royal decree stamped with the king’s seal. The decree stated that House Stark was reinstated to their position as Warden of the North. Permission was granted to remove any who resisted the crown’s will.

* * *

During the winter Highgarden saw the celebration of Willas’s six and twenty and Sansa’s four and ten name days. Willas had sheepishly told Sansa that they had missed his name day before due to their earlier traveling just after their marriage. She had been cross at him for the remainder of the day for him not telling her when his own name day was. How could a proper wife not know her own husband’s name day?

As the long nights of winter continued on Sansa enjoyed the time she had in the snow, but found herself longing for the profuse colors of spring and summer she knew would explode around Highgarden.

A letter from Brightwater Keep arrived for Sansa, Leonette’s seal affixed to it. Like many evenings Sansa and her husband were curled up by the fireplace on a warm rug. Sansa undid the seal and started to read. She gasped and tears started to trickle down her cheek. Willas seeing this was startled.

“Sansa?” He pulled his wife closer to him to try and comfort her. She turned in his arms and brought her head closer to his own. The look on her face was odd, she was crying but seemed joyful as well. Willas looked at her imploringly.

“Oh, Willas.” She choked out, voice full of emotion. He said nothing, unsure of what to say. “She is with child. Leonette is with child. Oh, how I’ve prayed for it to be so.” She tucked her face into the hollow of Willas’s neck.

“An uncle.” Willas murmured against his wife. He mulled the thought over in his head. He’d always assumed Garlan would have children before him. Ever since he had started courting Lenonette. He had not thought it would take this long. Given his wife’s statement, perhaps neither had she.

“I wonder if it will be a boy or a girl. Or even twins!” Sansa said, excitement clear in her voice. She pulled back and looked into her husband’s eyes. Chewing gently on her lower lip she asked him a question that had been on her mind for the past few months. “Do you want to have a child now?”

The thought had crossed his mind, on many occasions, though they tended to end at the same place. Traveling north with his wife pregnant or with a young babe was not a good idea. It was a long way off, but he had planned on waiting until they returned to Highgarden.

“I had the idea of waiting, until all these problems in the North were dealt with.” He ran his hands up and down Sansa’s back slowly as he spoke. “I know it’s a long way off still.” He paused for a moment. “I’m actually not thrilled with the idea myself… but traveling such a distance with a child or carrying one, in war no less, does seem like a good idea.”

Sansa seemed to think what he had said over. “That seems practical. Can’t say I’d enjoy giving birth along the road.” The thought actually scared her. She would want to be here in Highgarden, with Lady Tyrell and hopefully leonette.

“When we return then?”

Willas nodded in reply.

She wrapped her husband’s head up in her arms, tucking him under her chin.

“I hope our daughters look like you.” Willas mumbled into his wife’s chest, returning her embrace.

Sansa pictured children in her mind. Little girls that looked like her and little boys that looked like Willas. “Mmm, what if I hope our sons look like you?” She both feels and hears Willas laugh.

“I think we’ll have an easier time keeping the girls away from our sons than we will the boys from our daughters. You have me beat in the arena of looks my lady.”

“You sell yourself short my lord, our children as well.”

Willas laughed again. “My apologies my lady.”

“How many?” Came Sansa’s tiny voice as she ran her hands through Willas’s hair.

Willas shuddered slightly at her touch. “Since there are four of us Tyrell children… I’d always imagined the same.”

“Four…. Mother had five.” Sansa thinks back to her mother. She had never given that much thought to a particular amount of children. She knew she wanted several at least. Especially know that she was the last of her line. Things could change so quickly. Her parents had sought to secure the North through many children, and they nearly failed. She would not let that happen again.

* * *

Not long after the days became longer and the weather not so cold.

The Tyrell family was sitting down for dinner one evening when a page arrived in the small dining chamber. Willas knew what immediately had occurred when he saw what the young man was carrying. Before him the page held a cage, and in that cage was a white raven. Unlike the false spring it would seem that this winter was over. Even though many had expected a long winter given the equally long summer before it spring was indeed upon them.

“It would seem,” Lord Tyrell said eyeing the white raven. “That the citadel has decided the winter is over. To a long spring and summer!” He raised his glass high.

Willas and Sansa’s eyes met, they knew what the white raven also brought. War.


	12. The First Step

With spring approaching the activity in Highgarden once again increased. Storehouses were opened, tools were sharpened and horses readied to set about the hard work of tilling and planting seed. Before any work could commence a feast was held in Highgarden to start off the new planting season. Much like the harvest ball before the winter the planting feast was a large undertaking. Unlike last time however, Sansa assisted her goodmother in planning.

“I’m looking forward to seeing Leonette and Garlan soon.” Sansa said while she and her goodmother sat in Lady Tyrell’s solar. They had been going over the guest list and arranging seating assignments for the feast. Sansa had originally wanted to place members by status. With Lady Tyrells help she was learning which lords and ladies did not like one another, and thus it would do well to avoid placing near each other.

“I hope she travels well. I was not the most comfortable when I carried Willas. Being cooped up in a wheelhouse would have been very unpleasant.” Alerie thought back to her time whilst pregnant with her first born.

“When mother was pregnant with Rickon I remember her sleeping a lot.” Sansa grinned at the memory. “I didn’t understand why she couldn’t take the walks like we use to or read to me as often as she once had.” Her smile fell then. “I wish I had been more understanding then.”

“Children do not understand the intricacies of childbearing. They are only children. You shouldn’t think poorly of yourself for acting like a child, when you were a child.”

Sansa gave her good mother a slight smile and a nod.

The two women looked over the list some more, for the most part it appears complete. Sansa learned that several years ago a member of house Ashford insulted one of the Meadows girl’s. Ever since then the two were always trading barbs at gatherings.

“Is it… is it hard, carrying a child?” Sansa had always wanted to be a mother. Now that she and Willas had been married for a time and discussed children some she was feeling a little nervous at the prospect. Even if it was still a ways off.

“It is tiring, which is why your mother needed her sleep. Overall it is… different.” Sansa seemed to be hanging onto every word. “Months of carrying someone inside you, a lot of work at the end and eventually a beautiful babe that you and your husband created. It is difficult, but rewarding in the end.”

Lady Tyrell studied her good daughter, was she pregnant and looking for a way to ask for help? “Sansa, are you..?”

“Oh, no.” Sansa blushed slightly and bowed her head. “I’m not with child. We’ve just been talking about it some recently.” She looked back up. “Since the letter from Leonette.” She didn’t know how to feel. Would her goodmother think it was good or bad that she was not with child?

“Well, when the time comes you can come to me if you have questions. I’m sure Leonette would be thrilled to offer advice as well.”

Sansa could not detect any disappointment in the other woman’s countenance.

“I will keep that in mind.” She told her goodmother. “And… Thank you.”

The older woman simply dipped her head and smiled. “I think we should get this list down to the others. Janna will love to start gossiping about where every guest is placed.” She said knowingly to Sansa.

Sansa and Willas were able to relax more at the feast with Lord and Lady Tyrell present to oversee it. Sansa was seated next to Leonette affording the two women ample time to talk, in addition to the time they had spent together when Leonette and Garlan had arrived two days earlier.

* * *

Final preparations were starting for the upcoming war. Willas had written to the Starry Sept and received a proclamation declaring Walder Frey in violation of sacred law, his life declared forfeit before the seven.

Kristyne was busy folding away some of Sansa’s dresses into a traveling chest. Over the winter Sansa had furnished herself with several new dresses suitable for the northern climate and travel. In addition to her dresses several pairs of riding boots were also packed. Kristyne would not be making the trip north with the army. Sansa would miss her handmaiden, but did not want to put her in harm’s way, or take her from Highgarden and her husband.

“Do you want to take your jewelry box my lady?” Kristyne moved over to Sansa’s vanity that held most of her jewelry. She did not want for any. While Willas did not shower her with jewels he did present her with a new piece on a special occasion like her name day or before the planting feast.

“I don’t think so Kristyne.” Sansa scrunched her face up in contemplation. Carrying such items north seemed frivolous. She finished placing a woolen sleeping gown in the case before closing it.

She looked around the room. She had been sharing this with Willas for a year now. In many ways it was home to her. It surprised her to find that she did not want to leave in many ways. Unlike when she left Winterfell to come to the capital.

“These will do.” Sansa said, motioning to the few cases of clothing she would be traveling with. She had already assisted Willas with his packing, she made sure to have him keep enough warm clothes to keep him in the cooler climate of the North.

Servants came and carried the trunks down to the courtyard, where wagons were being loaded with supplies that would accompany Sansa and Willas north. After taking another look around her Sansa left the room.

The entryway to the keep was a bustle of activity. Outside she found Willas along with the rest of his family watching as the last of the wagons were readied in the courtyard below them. Among the wagons was a wheelhouse that both Sansa and her husband would travel in on the road to Bitterbridge. Their horses would be led with them should they want to ride later in their journey.

Garlan and Leonette were staying in Highgarden to help Lord Tyrell in Willas’s absence. Maneuvering around a passing servant carrying a trunk, Sansa found her way to her husband’s side.

Willas greeted his wife with a smile and offered her his arm, which she took. They viewed the proceedings below them for a moment.

“It’s already then?” Sansa asked, already feeling the excitement at traveling north.

“It is.” Willas then turned to his family beside him. “Mother, father I hope to see you in equal health when we return.” He made to embrace his mother and father respectively. “Don’t make a mess of my inheritance.” Willas joked with his younger brother before pulling him into a hug.

Garlan gave a good natured laugh. “I might be compelled to stay, it’s a jump up from Brightwater Keep don’t you think Leonette?” His wife simply rolled her eyes at him.

“Do make sure to send letters when you can.” Lady Tyrell took her goddaughters hands into her own. “I’ll be most anxious to hear from you.” She leaned in closer to Sansa to whisper in her ear. “Make sure he doesn’t overdo it on his leg, he can be a bit stubborn sometimes.”

“Mother!” Willas groaned.

Sansa flashed Willas a smile over her shoulder. Her husband could be stubborn about his leg she knew.

After another round of farewells, Sansa and Willas walked down the steps to the awaiting wheelhouse. Willas opened the door for his wife and assisted her inside. As usual Sansa turned to take his crutches before helping him into the wheelhouse as well. Once they were situated they gazed out the window as the carriage rumbled forward to the gate. Along with them came a wagon with their tent, larger than the ones the army would be sleeping in, and one with their clothing and supplies for the tent. Accompanying them was a personal guard. A retinue of one hundred Tyrell men at arms were to accompany the future Lord and Lady Tyrell north.

* * *

The Roseroad was busy as they traveled. The smallfolk all along the way were working in the fields, mending fences or pruning trees. The Reach held so much life and vibrancy Sansa thought.

“It’s so good to see color returning to the land. The North has its own rustic beauty, the Reach seems so sad without color.” Sansa noted.

“I look forward to you showing me the North.” Willas said. “I enjoyed our little tour to Oldtown and back. I hope we can do something similar in Winterfell when things get quieter.”

“I’m not that familiar with the North outside of Winterfell and the King’s Road.” Sansa explained with a hint of sadness. “Not that I wasn’t taught about them. I never had reason to leave before everything changed.”

Willas knew his wife to mean before the King’s procession north for her father. Before her betrothal to then Prince Joffrey. When discussing her childhood there was a definite line between the good times and bad. Everything prior to the King’s arrival tended to carry a happy feeling that Sansa brought out when talking to him. Things after tended to come across in a more subdued manner, or even sorrowful.

“Then we can see some together hopefully.” He said, trying to reassure her.

It seemed to work, because she looked at him happily and agreed. “Yes we can. Together.”

* * *

They knew that Bitterbridge was getting closer when the sides of the road began to get even more congested. Tents were pitched in fields and men milled about everywhere. When they did enter the town itself it seemed that every building was swarming with people. Blacksmiths, fletchers and armorers worked day and night crafting the arms and armor the army would need.

The wheelhouse passed banners from all over the Reach. Sansa recognized most of them now. When she saw the banner of the Hightower’s she pointed it out to Willas.

“Ah, Baelor should be nearby.” He responded happily. Baelor Hightower was to be Willas’s most trusted general in the push north. The Hightower’s supplied a good portion of the army and material as well.

They came to an inn that had been turned into a command post for the marshaling forces. The wheelhouse stopped and the door opened. When they exited they heard a shout of exclamation. Turning they saw Baelor Hightower approaching. The man was decked out in an impressive looked suite of plate mail.

“Uncle!” Willas embraced his uncle while his wife watched on. Baelor wore a wide grin.

“And welcome to you as well my lady.” He said, bowing over Sansa’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you my lord. It is good to see you. I trust your father is well?”

“He is my lady.”

The trio proceeded into the inn, which was likewise just as busy as the roads outside. Men in suits of armor stood around. Messengers ran in and out of the building delivering their correspondences.

In one of the larger rooms several tables had been set up. One with a map of the local terrain upon it. When Willas neared the table he saw the markings of all the different houses of the Reach that had supplied men for their overlord.

“They are all here then?” Willas asked Baelor, studying the map with a keen eye.

“That they are.” Baelor replied to his nephew. He ran through the long list of houses present and the men they had brought with them. Sansa looked on with some awe. When she had started learning the different houses and lords of the Reach she quickly discovered that there were far more in the Reach than her home in the North. They had amassed a truly large host.

Two men in ornate armor entered the room.

“My lords,” Willas spoke to the men. “May I introduce my wife, lady Sansa, the head of House Stark. Lord Mathis Rowan and Lord Randyll Tarly.” Willas identified the two men for Sansa as they bowed when their name was mentioned.

Sansa offered each a curtsy in return. “My lords.”

“Shall we get to business then?” Willas asked his generals. Getting an affirmative Willas moved to the table in the room that contained a map of Westeros and the others followed him.

“While we are moving north the Redwyne fleet will as well. Their objective is the Iron Islands.” Several fleet markers were moved north to south by Willas. “I know they have been causing trouble for the people along the coast and in the Shield Islands. Father has ordered Lord Redwyne to destroy the threat they pose.” He shifted his attention back to the Reach on the map.

“Forty-five thousand men in total. Four thousand skilled archers and ten thousand men-at-arms.” Willas moved several map markers to the twins on the map. “First we move north, following the smaller roads directly into the Riverlands. We’ve established supply depots along the way to ease our passing. Traveling to the west of the God’s Eye we’ll make for the Red Fork. Once there we cross at the Crossroads to the Kingsroad. The King’sroad will enable us to travel faster and we should reach here,” he pointed to a place close to where the King’s road was parallel to the Twins, “And travel overland due West. At the Twins we will hold the north while Lord Edmure Tully will take position on the South.”

Willas looked up at the assembled group. They all were following along, no hints of displeasure with the plan so far appeared.

“There Lord Tully, my wife’s uncle, will demand the fealty of House Frey once again and deal with them as he sees fit. We have pledged our support for his efforts.” Willas moved the markers once more north on the map to Winterfell. “From the Twins we’ll march north to Winterfell, currently occupied by Lord Bolton, and take it by way of the Kingsroad. Most likely we will then need to move on the Dreadfort.” Willas pointed it out on the map. “Before House Bolton will bend the knee.”

The lords thought over the plan. Lord Tarly spoke up the first on his thoughts. “How many men do you think we will be facing? Lord Frey and Lord Bolton.”

“Lord Frey has some four thousand men at his disposal. None of the other Riverland lords will come to his aid. Most likely he will do what he has always done, sit his castle and curse everyone around him. As for Lord Bolton. He has six thousand men in Winterfell and a token force in the Dreadfort.”

Lord Tarly seemed skeptical at the numbers given to him. “Forgive me my lord, but these seem to be… very generous estimates of enemy troop strengths.”

Sansa spoke up next, somewhat surprising the Lord Tarly.

“That is because the lords of the North will not answer him when lord Bolton calls the banners. He is but a usurper and the North will never follow him. They are loyal only to the Starks of Winterfell. When we enter the North they have pledged to rally to our cause. Lord Bolton will have no allies.” She ends with finality.

“If we stop at the Twins and the Bolton’s send their own men to Moat Cailin, what then? If I were Bolton I’d make a stand there. It’s the most natural choke point into the North.” Lord Rowan asked, looking at the terrain of the North.

Wilas realigned the markers simulating what Lord Rowan had just described. “Should that happen, we will not storm through the swamps as others have. Instead we will wait for loyalist forces from the North to move in behind the Bolton’s and trap them in the Neck. Should that not happen, we will look to House Reed to show us the way through the swamps.”

This seemed to be satisfactory to Lord Rowan. Willas looked around the room again, now he would reveal their secret weapon.

“There is one last thing I want to bring to your attention my lords. Something that cannot leave this room.” He added with vigor.

The other lords tensed up a little, waiting for their future lord to continue.

“Traveling with us will be two carts. In those carts will be casks of wildfire.” Willas could see the disbelief on the faces of the men in the room. “No one is to know about it. Also these carts are to be guarded at all times. At every place we stop, a tent is to be erected over them and _all_ flints, lights or other flammable objects are to be kept away from them. We will use it only if it’s advantageous to. We’re not reenacting the Mad King.”

They seemed to be absorbing what Willas had just told them so he continued.

“Should it come down to it, we will have a weapon to pull out and end any stalemate we may be faced with.”

“Wildfire, how did…” Lord Tarly trailed off.

“It helps to have a sister who is queen.” Willas replied. “Like I said, it’s a fall back should we need it. We will not be burning the North. Nor will we be raping and pillaging either. Get the word out through the ranks.”

“Your plan is sound Lord Willas, didn’t see the wildfire coming into play though.” Lord Tarly said.

“If there is not further question I suggest we get some rest. We move out at first light.”

The others filed out of the room until it was only Sansa and Willas. She went over to her husband and put her arm through his. She said nothing as she laid her head on his shoulder. His arm came up to rub up and down hers absent mindedly.

They left the inn and headed for the sept in the town. While larger than the small private sept in the gardens of Highgarden it was not as ornate. Inside were other soldiers as well, some of who bowed to them as they entered. As the neared the small statue of the Warrior the men clustered around it moved out of the way for the pair. With no stool to rest on Willas had to stand instead. Likewise Sansa stood next her husband, after taking his crutches and placing them on the ground, she took his arm and the two spent some time in prayer.

By the time they retired the sun was already on its way down and was nearing the horizon. They had arranged for a single room in the inn to conserve space, since it was overcrowded with officers from the army. It was clean though, and Sansa was grateful to have a solid bed instead of ground beneath her to sleep on.

Inside Sansa saw a suit of armor. She recognized it as Willas’s own from their rooms in Highgarden minus the helmet. She had never examined it then. She only had seen Willas look at it occasionally, running his hand over it before putting the cloth that covered it back on. He always seemed sad when he looked at it.

Willas saw her taking notice of the armor and spoke up. “My own. From my first tourney.” His voice had an odd emotion in it.

Sansa walked over to the armor to get a better look at it. It was an impressive piece, not as gaudy as the one she had seen Ser Loras in, but obviously meant for an important lord. The pauldrons had the design of a rose on them. The breastplate was already polished and the light from the fireplace reflected off of it. It was not a complete set. The only armor present for the legs were the cuisses. It was also missing its gauntlets. It seemed to be that only the pieces that Willas could reasonably wear were present.

“Are you going to wear this?” Sansa has never seen her husband in anything but his fine dress clothes. She’s seen both his brothers in armor, but not him.

“I should at least dress the part, even if I do not fight.” Willas’s voice came from behind her.

The thought of her husband donning armor and charging into battle unsettles her. She cannot lose her husband, not like everyone else in her family.

Instead she leads her husband to the bed and helps him undress. When they are down to their small clothes she pulled back the covers of the bed and crawls in. She is followed by her husband who draws the covers up around them. Sansa rested her head on Willa’s chest, wrapping her arms around him. He replied with the same.

Ever since her father was killed, since word came of the burning of Winterfell, since she learned her mother and brother were dead, Sansa has known what needed to be done. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. Now that it is coming down to war she is scared for herself and her husband. What would her father do, she thought to herself. He would retake Winterfell, not allow a usurper to sit in its halls. And to do that risks war, just like her brother before her. She would do her duty. She would see this to the end. And they will not fail.

* * *

In the morning they rise and take a quick bath before breaking their fast in the room they shared.

“Would you be interested in riding the way north Sansa?” The question from Willas catches her somewhat off guard. Their horses are with them, but she thought they would only use them when the wheel house got stuck or unable to cross a stream.

She thinks it over. She rode all the way from King’s Landing to Highgarden on horseback. It is longer to The Twins and even more so to Winterfell, but she can do it she thinks.

“Do you wish to? If you do I am willing to ride alongside you.” She knows he can ride. He has a specially trained horse, Mander, that Willas has trained to respond to commands with one leg. His other would be strapped securely to the saddle. When she looks at him he is studying his armor with a faraway look in his eyes.

“I would like to Sansa.”

“Then we’ll ride.” Sansa made sure to get a suitable riding dress out of her traveling trunk along with the matching boots. Willas changed into an arming coat but left his riding trousers on. He stood before the armor, merely looking at it.

Sansa came to stand next to Willas. “Willas.” She said, putting her hand on his shoulder.

After a moment he responded. “I haven’t worn this since the joust.”

“Do you need some help, putting it on I mean?”

“I’ll need some help with the breastplate. If you don’t mind?”

Willas was able to put on all the armor present except for the breastplate. It had been years since he’d done this. The day of that blasted tourney that cost him the use of his right leg. He held the breastplate up in the front and instructed Sansa on how to secure it properly. While she did it she thought back to some of her favorite stories. It was like Naerys and her beloved brother the Dragonkight.

Willas made a pleased sound and looked down at the armor he was wearing. “At least I cans still fit in my armor after all these years.” He said dryly.

Sansa kissed her husband’s cheek. “You look handsome.” She said with complete honesty.

Willas felt the blush creeping up his neck at the complement. He had never wanted the glory of knighthood. But he could not deny that he longed to have a wife praise his qualities as a knight, he had long thought that would never happen since the accident.

* * *

Outside the inn their escort was waiting. Several prominent Tyrell banners flapped in the wind, as well as a lone Stark banner. Their horses stood in the middle of the group. Sansa was assisted up into the saddle and took the reins. She was by no means an experienced rider, but her time traveling to Highgarden gave her some familiarity. Willas was assisted by two knights up into his saddle. Once in, he strapped his leg to it with several leather straps.

Once he was secured Willas motioned for the large group to depart. They made their way north through the town and exited onto a road that was swarming with men and carts. Their march toward the Twins was long and slow given the army could only move as fast as the slowest carts.

Not soon after they had left Bitterbridge a messenger met them to inform them of Lord Edmure’s progress. Sansa’s uncle had rallied his loyal bannermen and awaited them at Fairmarket with his army.

Springtime rains met the army as they entered into the Riverlands. The roads became streams of mud quickly. Carts and wagons became stuck in the mud, taking more men and pack animals to dislodge them than they normally used to move. The army’s progress slowed until they reached the River Road as it ran alongside the Red Fork. From there they made the short trek east to the Crossroads. With the army on the wide and paved Kingsroad it moved much faster. Three months after they left Highgarden they were closing in on the Twins.

Along the way the men of the Tyrell army used the supply caches set up earlier in advance of them. This proved to be an advantage for the army. Everywhere they went villages and towns were still rebuilding from the previous war with the crown. Sansa was shocked at how burned the Riverlands were. Her mother would weep if she could see it now she thought.

Word reached the Tyrell forces that Edmure Tully had taken up position on the south side of the Green Fork. Skirmishes were fought as the Tully’s closed in on the Twins. Baelor hoped this would divert attention from their own approach from the north.

When they broke from the Kingsroad Lord Tarly was dispatched with most of the cavalry to screen the army’s advance onto the Twins.

They crested a hill and can see the Twins in the distance. Two tall towers rising from the banks of the river. A large bridge links the two. Sansa could not stop the emotions that welled up in her chest. This, this was the place that saw the Stark’s defeated. That saw the near extinction of her father’s line. Not even the Mad King put the Starks in as much danger as the treachery of Walder Frey and Roose Bolton in this place.


	13. The North Remembers

The Tyrell army set up camp on a hill overlooking the castle before them. All along the ridge of the hill and down to the river on either side in a great half circle the army spread out, erecting palisades and trenches. After three days a clear line was formed between Tyrell and Frey controlled land.

The other side of the Green Fork was occupied by the Tully’s. They too seemed to be building fortifications around the castle, preparing for a long siege. At night campfires from either army lit the surrounding lands aglow with firelight. The sounds of pickaxes and shovels sounded both day and night.

With the cavalry not being of any value to the siege, they were sent to patrol the riverbanks and the area behind the army, in the unlikely attempt that the Freys would seek to catch the Tyrell’s unaware to the rear.

Walder Frey seemed content to sit inside his castle, secure in his high walls and a crossing that had never fallen. His sons had different ideas.

Sansa, Willas and his generals sat in the command tent when a sentry entered and told them that two men on horseback were approaching from the castle under a flag of truce.

Two disheveled men hobbled into the tent. Their manner of dress was odd to Willas. They looked more like smallfolk than members of a house that not long ago claimed to rule the Riverlands. They identified themselves as two of Walder Frey’s sons, which Willas had no idea. The Twins wear teaming with the children of Lord Frey.

When the two Frey’s caught sight of Sansa they gasped. “It’s the ghost of Lady Stark come back to ‘aunt us!” One of them yelled, pointing at Sansa.

Sansa glared at the two men. Her posture rigid as she fought the urge to demand their heads.

“Is there a reason you have come?” Willas asked the two Frey’s

“My lord,” The Frey eyed Sansa out of the corner of his eye. “Our Lord father wishes to know what your intentions in his lands are.”

Willas wondered if these men truly were sent from their father. Or if they were only looking for a more favorable deal for themselves.

“We intend on supporting my wife’s uncle. As he deals with your… crimes against the gods and man.”

Willas hands them the paper declaring Lord Walder Frey’s actions in violation of the faith of the seven. The man he hands it too looks at it before turning it upside down to examine it further. Willas looked on in amazement. Could these men really be that daft? Can they not even read?

The man who spoke stuck his nose up in the air in a move to make himself look bigger than he was and handed the paper back to Willas. The whole act looked rather comical to him.

“Our father is hoping we can come to an agreement that will put this misunderstanding behind us.”

Sansa had heard enough. “Misunderstanding? Misunderstanding?” She approached the men who shrunk back toward the entrance of the tent. “You murdered my brother! You murdered my mother! You –“Sansa could not continue. What they had done to their bodies was unspeakable. Her eyes burned into the Frey’s. “If it were up to me and not my lord uncle. The towers you live in would be torn brick by brick down. Until nothing was left standing.”

Willas sat back in his chair seeing no reason to step into his wife dressing down the Frey’s before him. They looked to him for help against her verbal assault.

“Why do you think we will deal differently with you? I am not your liege lord. As I have said, we are here to support Lord Tully and any judgement he renders fit on your house. I do not think you would want to deal with us anyway.” Willas added gesturing between Sansa and himself. “Given your treatment of my goodbrother and goodmother.” He said solemnly.

“My lord, My lady I-“The other Frey began before he was cut off by Sansa.

“Leave. We will not bargain with you. Nor will I have you in my sight. Go!” Sansa pointed to the way out.

The men stumbled out the tent to their horses as fast as they could. When they had mounted they dashed out of the camp back to the castle they came from.

Sansa turned back to Willas still shaking in anger. “What will he do with them? Why hasn’t he moved against them?”

“I don’t know.” Willas summoned a messenger. “Get a message to Lord Tully. We’d like to know what his plans are. When does he plan on assaulting the Twins?”

The messenger bowed and headed to the river. There a small boat would take him across the river to the Tully controlled southern bank.

In the tent Sansa shared with her husband she helped Willas down onto the bed. Traveling was taxing on his leg and he was in more pain than usual. Their tent was divided in the middle with a privacy screen, at least giving the couple an illusion of being alone. Outside the sound of men and animals were all around. Even the smell of smoke from their fires permeated the tent.

“Do you need the master? Or some milk of the poppy?” Sansa ran her hands through Willas’s hair. He sighed slightly and leaned into her touch. She hated to see him in pain.

“No.” He breathed. “I might do with a bit of dreamwine I think. I’ll be of little use to my lady tonight I’m afraid.” He smiled at her wearily.

“My lord needs his rest.” Sansa trailed her hands down his chest soothingly and returning his smile.

Sansa opened the small medicine chest Willas traveled with to draw out a small draft of dreamwine. Willas usually did not take medicine for his pain. When he did it was usually dreamwine. He had told her he did not like the mind altering effects of milk of the poppy.

As she was doing so, a guard entered the tent with the messenger from earlier.

“My lady,” The men bowed. “The messenger has returned with a reply from Lord Tully.”

Sansa took the rolled up piece of paper stamped with the fish of House Tully. “Thank you. I will see that Lord Willas receives this.”

The men bowed once more and left the tent.

Sansa passed through the divider and sat on the bed next to Willas.

“You can read it.” Willas tells her.

Sansa opened it up and read it silently first. Her uncle had agreed to elevate one of the lower Frey’s to lordship as the Lord of the Crossing. In return he will hand over his father to Lord Edmure who will banish him to the north and the Night’s Watch. His reasoning is that he will not become a kinslayer and take Walder Frey’s life.

‘He’s agreed to put one of the younger Frey’s in charge. He’ll banish Walder to the Night’s Watch.” Sansa handed the note to Willas who looks it over.

Willas grunted. “Makes sense I suppose. He doesn’t want to kill his goodfather and the next Lord of the Crossings will owe his position to your uncle. Not unlike what the Targaryen’s did with our house.”

He was right Sansa knew. “Here’s your dreamwine.” She pressed the small vial into Willas’s hands. He took and swallowed it. Sansa readied herself for bed and got in, pulling the covers up around them both. Soon Willas’s relaxed and his breath even out. Sansa was glad for the dreamwine. He lost the tightness in his face when he slept and looked all the more handsome without it. Laying her own head down Sansa soon followed him in sleep.

* * *

In the morning the army prepared to break camp and resume their march north. Walder Frey had been handed over to Lord Tully in irons and awaited sentencing.

The army turned and marched back the way they had come to the Kingsroad. Scouts were sent ahead to try and locate the men of House Reed that had promised to join up with them. No word had reached them of the situation in the North, but no one imagined that Roose Bolton was ignoring the Tyrell army on his doorstep.

The road behind them snaked for miles with soldiers, a long line carrying the banners of the Reach. The climate changed as they finally reached the lands of the North. Warmer coats made of the fur traded for over the winter were issued to the marching men. Willas was draped in fine furs against the cold. Sansa too had her own fur coat as well, though it was not as thick as the one Willas wore. She was far more used to the weather than he was.

The Neck was all swamps and bogs that smelled of decomposing trees and stagnant water. There the Kingsroad narrowed into a causeway, slowing the army. Scouts sent on ahead reported back that the green banners of House Reed flew from Moat Cailin.

The road opened up just before the fortress, and immense bog surrounded the structure that seemed to rise like an island out of the ocean in the middle. The Kingsroad ran through the middle of the bog and right through the fort. If the army wished to pass, it would do so through the fort.

Sansa, Willas and their household guard moved to the edge of the bog on the highest ground they could find. From their position they could see the gates of the fort open and several riders emerge.

The riders are on the smaller mounts common to the North, the men who sit atop them are equally small. They approached the waiting Tyrells and raised their hands in greeting.

A middle aged man, who seemed to be the leader, walked his horse toward Sansa. “My lady Sansa.” The man bowed his head from his mount. “It is good to see a child of Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn in the North once more.” Emotion was evident in the man’s voice. “The Stark dire wolf as well.” He motioned to the banner flapping in the strong wind behind Sansa.

“Thank you Lord Reed. My father counted you among his most loyal friends. I hope that I too may count you among my friends.” Sansa spoke to the man.

“You may my lady. Our swords and spears are yours. We follow the blood of House Stark, and no other.”

Sansa bowed her own head slightly at his answer. “Would you please join us then to discuss plans with my husband?”

Lord Reed agrees and a tent is set up for the allies to discuss the plans for the war against House Bolton.

* * *

Willas watched as the Tyrell army moves across the bog to the other side. They will camp there for the night. Lord Reed was explaining the current situation in the North.

“He’s called the banners, though only the Karstark’s are loyal to him. None of the other lords will fight for him. They’re also taking their sweet time in assembling. We were given instructions to hold Moat Cailin while he gathered at Winterfell. From there Roose planned on marching south to reinforce us.”

“He doesn’t realize that he is no longer Warden of the North?” Even though Willas expected a fight it is still odd for a lord to go against the king, given how such rebellions have ended recently for the lords who fought against the crown.

“I don’t think he cares. His family has wanted this for generations. Now that he’s sitt’n in Winterfell all high and mighty, he doesn’t want to leave.”

“Is it true what they did to Winterfell?” Sansa asked. In her mind Winterfell is still the same as it was when she left several years earlier.

Lord Reed frowns and looks at Sansa with empathy. “It is. The Greyjoy’s put the castle to the torch. Along with your brothers and my children.” He paused. “They Bolton’s have rebuilt part of it. It’s nothing like it was when your father was there.”

The news does not come as a shock to Sansa, maybe if the Bolton’s have already got some of the cleanup underway she can finish it easier. She will make it as it should be. The proud home of the Starks, the greatest castle in the North.

“I will make it great again.” Sansa says to both herself and Howland Reed.

* * *

The Tyrell’s and their new Northern allies continue, two thousand strong, north through the Barrowlands toward Winterfell. Here the kingsroad opened up greatly. The vast hills and plains of the land were in stark contrast to the confines of the swamps in the Neck. Willas could tell Sansa was becoming more restless as they traveled. She also seemed to absorb her soundings as much as she could. All around them there seemed to be only the green of the grass or the blue-grey of the sky for miles on end.

Lord Tarly had been sent ahead with a large detachment of cavalry to secure the crossing of the western White Knife near Cerwyn. The river was the only physical obstacle between them and Winterfell.

Sansa entered the tent one night as the sun had finally sunk below the horizon. Willas was already in bed, having issued orders to different commanders for the coming day. She sat down on the bed and crawled into her husband’s arms.

“You’ve been thinking a lot.” Willas breathed into her neck.

“It’s… odd being back. I’ve longing to return, but being here is almost strange.” She confessed. “I can’t imagine what Winterfell is like now.”

“You’ll have to show me around when we get there.”

Sansa pushed back deeper into his embrace. “I will.” She would show Willas the great godswood, provided it wasn’t burned. And the sept, were they would pray together, and the large glass hothouses that would grow things during the winter. She would tell him about all the great members of House Stark that had lived there. Of how their own son would one day rule the North from its halls. That night Sansa’s dreams were of Winterfell, and children who would inhabit it.

* * *

The army was on the move again when riders from Lord Tarly met them on the moors of the Barrowland.

“My lord,” One of the riders addressed Willas. “Lord Tarly informs you that the Bolton’s have burned the bridge outside of Cerwyn. A small force remains on the other side. Lord Tarly thinks they mean to watch our movements.”

Willas looked around the land. It was hilly and barren of large trees, nothing useful for building with.

“Lord Willas?” Lord Reed called to Willas.

“There are no trees here.” Willas replied. “I have shipbuilders from the Arbor. We can build a bridge across ourselves, but there are no trees nearby.”

“The Wolfswood.” The lord thought after a moment. “Its borders are just to the west of Cerwyn. Your men can fell trees there and use them for timber.”

Willas gave his thanks and turned to the men from Lord Tarly. “Take axes and return to Lord Tarly. He is to head west to the Wolfswood and return with timber for construction. Our shipbuilders will have a bridge across the White Knife.”

The charred remains of the bridge near Cerwyn stuck out of the dark water. Already some timber had been assembled and the men from the Arbor were setting about the task of creating a bridge from interconnected boats. They would work for a full day and night to complete their assigned task. At dawn a bridge of boats with planks running across them all formed a bridge. The advancing army would not be slowed for long.

“The Bolton men left sometime in the night.” Lord Tarly said over breakfast. “The other northern lords must be assembled by now and Roose knows his time is up.”

Sansa was worried for Winterfell and its people. Surely it would not come down to a siege. Roose Bolton was surrounded by enemies. Why did he not bend the knee?

“Lord Tarly,” Willas addressed the older lord, “You are my eyes. I need you to take five thousand riders and advance on Winterfell. Find out where the Bolton’s men are. You have leave to engage them, should you encounter any, if you feel you have the advantage. Otherwise restrict yourself to scouting only. I want to bring the rest of the army up to Winterfell within two days.” Willas pointed out the Stark ancestral home on the map.

“Lord Baelor, please see that the men are in marching order within the hour.”

After crossing the river the army passed through the town of Cerwyn. Small folk from the town crowded the streets and buildings to watch the army pass. They had never before seen southern knights and the men in plate armor looked like something from the stories of old to them.

Willas was surprised by how poor everything looked. The people seemed to be gaunt and thin compared to the small folk in the Reach. It was also different to have traveled for so long and now they were coming across the first large settlement in the North.

After they had passed the town Sansa turned to Willas. “Half a day. We’re just half a day from Winterfell. Growing up the Cerwyn’s would visit us the most out of all our other bannermen, since they were so close.”

Not long after Lord Tarly and his riders returned.

“My lord. No sign of the Bolton’s, or the other Northmen. Winterfell seems to be clear of fighting men. The villagers around the castle say everyone left three days ago. They headed east once Bolton realized his men were going to turn on him. The other lords are giving pursuit east as well.” The man said before waiting for instructions from his lord.

“Thank you Lord Tarly. Have your men fall in. We’ll camp at Winterfell tonight.” He glanced at his wife who seems to be fidgeting with her cloak even more.

In several hours’ time, Sansa and Willas crested a hill. From that hill Winterfell loomed on the horizon, a large and ancient looking structure. It looks like something that had lasted a thousand years and would last a thousand more to Willas.

Sansa let out a cry and clasps her hand to her mouth, her eyes flooded with tears.

Willas leaned over in his saddle; his leg was causing him pain today and reached for his wife’s hand. “You can go on ahead. I’ll be there soon.”

Sansa wiped her face and cleared her throat. “No.” She said taking her husband’s hand. “We’ll go together.”

* * *

The Tyrell household guard escorted Sansa and Willas to the gates of Winterfell. The rest of the army would camp outside the castle.

The gates of the castle rose before her. It had been over three years since she had exited these gates. During those three years so much had changed. She had changed.

Around the gates were smallfolk from Winter town and the those who worked in the castle.

“Lady Stark!” A woman called out.

“That’s not Lady Stark. It’s her daughter.” Came a quick rebuke from someone in the crowd.

Sansa smiled and waved at the people. She would see to it that they no longer suffered under the Bolton’s.

They entered the small muddy courtyard in front of the keep. The riders fanned out and began to dismount. Willas rode up to Sansa and brought his horse to a halt. Sansa slid off her horse and went over to her husband to help him dismount. Once he was down and had been given his crutches they looked to the keep.

The castle had seen better days. It was clearly not taken care of in the same way that her family had. In some places scorch marks were evident. Several banners bearing the flayed man of House Bolton were still present. Left by their owners as they left in a hurry. Sansa eyed them with contempt.

“Get those banners down.” Willas said as he pointed to the macabre sigil. Several knights moved to obey him.

Sansa walked slowly toward the entry hall. Willas followed behind her, the muddy ground made it somewhat harder to walk with his crutches.

At the entryway several housemaids curtsied. “Lady Stark.”

Sansa curtsied in return. “I am lady Sansa Tyrell now. Forgive me, I do not recognize you. Could you tell me though, were Maester Luwin is or Old Nan?”

“Maester Luwin is dead my lady. Killed by the Ironborn. Old Nan and several others from the castle were taken to the Dreadfort when the Bolton’s came.”

Sansa closed her eyes and sighed. Old Nan was just that Old, what could the Bolton’s want with her. And Maester Luwin. Why did Theon kill him?

Willas entered the hall and approached his wife. The familiar beat of his crutches echoing in the hall.

“Could you prepare a meal please in the great hall for my husband and our guests?”

“Of course my lady.” The women left for the kitchens to inform the cook.

“Sansa?” Willas’s voice came up behind her.

Sansa sighed again. “This way Willas. We’ll eat in the great hall.”

* * *

Like everything else so far the great hall was not the same as it once was. Sansa led Willas to the long table at the head of the hall and sat down. The wooden carvings of dire wolves had been removed. She would have to see them put back.

“After dinner I’d like to visit the crypts.” Sansa said to Willas. He nodded in response to her statement.

Other members of the Tyrell company entered the great hall and take seats throughout the room. The room starts to feel more like a welcoming place now with more people in it. It seems to make Sansa a little happier as well.

Willas’s eyes swept the room. “This seems like a place that has seen many feasts.” He remarked.

Sansa smiled. “It has. We have a harvest festival similar to the one in Highgarden. It’s not as well attended because not as many people live in the North, but it was always a highlight of my childhood.”

Their meals arrived and Sansa told Willas about the days in Winterfell before the king rode north. When they had finished they rose and Sansa led the way to the underground crypts.

The crypts were dark and smelled of stale air. No torches had been lit in them for some time. Sansa lit one and they walked through the gloom to the back of the chamber. They passed many of the old Stark lords and Kings from before the conquest of Aegon. They came to one statue of a young woman.

“My aunt.” Sansa whispered.

Willas knew who she meant. The whole of the realm knew of the abduction of Lyanna Stark by the Targaryen prince.

She moved to the next alcove. Inside it was a stone sarcophagus, with an incomplete statue above it. The statue was of a man holding a great sword. The inscription on it read Lord Eddard Stark. Sansa ran her hands along the edge of the stone.

“I want to finish it.” She said looking into the face of the statue. “And I want one for my mother next to him. Even if I can’t put her remains next to his. My brothers need tombs as well. They are honored Stark dead and need to be remembered.”

Willas placed his hand on Sansa’s shoulder. “You’re the Lady of Winterfell. You can have your family honored. If you’d like stone from the Three Towers we can send for some. It’s some of the best in the realm.”

Sansa put her hand over his. They stayed in the crypts for a while longer. When they came back up the sun had long set and everyone was bedding down for the night. The guest keep was filled with knights from the Reach. Sansa thought about where they would sleep. Out of mostly habit she climbed the stairs to her old chambers.

When she opened the door she did not recognize her room. She entered and turned around, taking everything in. The bed was the same but nothing else in the room was from her last time there. Everything that was hers was gone.

Willas closed the door behind him.

“My old chambers.” Sansa said. “They’ve changed everything. Nothing of mine is here, it’s all gone.” She added, her voice tinged with anger. She felt violated. The Bolton’s had gone through her things and removed them.

Willas moved to the bed and Sansa helped him get into it. Sansa took her dress off and folded it, placing it on a nearby chair. Clothed only in her shift she climbed into the bed next to her husband. In the quiet of her old room the tears flow freely. Willas pulled her close and holds her until her tears stop when she falls asleep.

* * *

Sometime during the night riders from the force that pursued the Bolton’s toward the Dreadfort returned. Roose Bolton had burned the river crossing to the east and the Northmen did not have the men or materials to rebuild it.

The Tyrell war council convened over breakfast in the great hall. The food was different, much simpler yet hardier than the people in the south ate for their meals.

“We have the advantage, the Bolton’s are on the run. We must not give up our momentum.” Baelor Hightower was counseling Willas on continuing the pursuit. Lord Tarly agreed, in between mouthfuls of bread.

Willas wanted to exercise caution; they had nearly every advantage on their side why rush into things? “Couldn’t we rest the men some, then go to lay siege to the Dreadfort?”

“We could. But if you were Roose Bolton, what would you want us to do? Sit here or march on his lands?”

Baelor has a point Willas concedes. If he were in Bolton’s position he would want all the time he could get to mount any sort of defense.

“Very well.” Willas agrees with his uncle. “First we’ll need to timber to rebuild a bridge across the White Knife to get to the Dreadfort. Have the men gather what they need nearby in the Wolfswood.”

The men quickly finish their meal and make to leave the hall. Servants come and clear away their plates, Sansa gives them a warm smile and thanks. It was not something she did as a child, but she is their Lady now and like her father before her she will treat her servants with respect.

She stood and passed Willas his crutches. “Come we should inspect the castle. And I can show you all the places I grew up in.”

The courtyard was filled with activity, mostly connected with arrival of the southern army. The blacksmiths and fletchers were busy at work refitting the Tyrells as best they can. The stables are full, but Buttons and Mander were safe and warm there. Sansa took Willas to the glass hot house first. Inside many different types of fruits and vegetables are growing. Condensation dripped down from the windows all around them.

“It’s hotter in here than it is back at home. A lot muggier too.” Willas exclaimed when they entered.

“Mother would come here sometimes. We grew a small amount of flowers in the back. She would sometimes come and sit among them.”

They walked side by side through the room. The hothouses seems to have changed the least. It still grows things for the castle and is not in need of repair it would seem. They both shivered when they reemerged into the cool air of the North. The Burned Tower was as it had been, burned. She would be the first to rebuild it in generations Sansa thought.

The sept was a different matter. The doors to the building hung precariously on their hinges. The roof had collapsed, either from its own weight or snow was unknown, but the burned supports could no longer keep it up. Sansa did not enter the building, it did not look safe, but instead walked around the edge of it. The colorful stained glass that was so beautiful in the light had been smashed in.

“Your father built this, for your mother?” Willas asked. He stuck his head in one of the windows, only to have Sansa pull him back away from it.

“He did. To me it was always normal. The sept was small, but I’ve always liked it, and I thought it had always been here. It wasn’t until I was older that I learned it wasn’t built until after their marriage. That father had done it to please mother.”

The godswood takes up a good portion of the ground in the western part of the castle. The walls that surround it are not as tall as the rest of the castle. They mainly serve to maintain the privacy and sacredness of the godswood. As they passed through the iron gate into the trees the sounds of the castle fade away. It is like entering the forest just outside of Winterfell. Only this one feels ancient.

The leaves crunch beneath their feet as they walk through the trees. Willas is not sure where they are going until he sees the great white tree. Next to the tree is a pool of inky black water. Sansa slowly approaches the tree, looking at the face carved in it.

The density of the trees and scarcity of light seemed to press down on Willas. There was a power here, something that was different from the way he felt in the septs so common in the south. The goodswood here was very different from the one in Highgarden. Having not seen another to compare it to Willas now sees that, like everything else in Highgarden, Highgarden’s godswood is much more open and seemed to be a colorful display.

Sansa knelt before the heart tree in prayer. Willas shuffled on his crutches, not disturbing his wife and looking around at the trees. When she stood again Willas smiled at her. She came and rested her head on his shoulder. “I prayed for my family. That they would find peace with gods.”

Willas ran his hands through her hair. “As do I Sansa.”

Most of the towers are still intact. The one Sansa knew Willas will like the best is the library. She led him to the base of the tower. Looking up the winding staircase she turned to him. “Do you think you can make the climb? It’s the library I know you’ll like it.”

“We’ll have to take it slow, but I think so.”

Sansa took his arm and helped him mount the steps. They are steeper than any of the passages Willas takes at home. Sansa pushed open the door at the top. The library is not as grand as Highgarden’s’ but she spent many hours in this room growing up. It was here that she found her love for tales of knights and ladies.

Sansa ran her hand over some of the books. Her favorites seemed to still be there. It seemed the Greyjoys and Boltons had no desire to enter the library. “I use to read in here.” Sansa said. “Sometimes, after our lessons with Maester Luwin or Septa Mordane, I would spend a few hours reading in that window.” She pointed to an arched window overlooking the courtyard.

They continue to move around the room looking at different books. In the back are large bindings that look very heavy.

“What are those?” Willas pointed to the books.

“Maps I think. Of different lands and castles of the North.”

He hates to interrupt their more lighthearted conversation. But thoughts of the present war come back to his mind at mentions of castles.

“Would any plans of the Dreadfort and the surrounding environs be in one?”

Sansa moved over to the large bookshelf. It is stacked all the way to the tall ceiling with books. She looked through the lower shelf, her face scrunched up in concentration. She pulled one from its place and brought it over to a table.

When it was opened, Sansa thumbed through its pages. Dust clouded the air and Willas did his best to clear it with his hand.

“Here.” Sansa said at last. “Plans for the Dreadfort.”

Together they sit and look at the book. The castle was formidable. It had thick walls that were high. It commanded a good position along the Weeping Water. The most probable point of attack seemed to be at the thickest portion of the wall, along the front of the fortress away from the sheer cliff face that protected the back.

“We’ll need siege towers, or ladders.” Willas commented. He brought the candle closer to look over the wall one more time. “We can haul timber overland in carts to build a tower closer to the castle. If we can get it to the wall and get enough men onto the walls they can get the gate open and the castle will fall.”

Sansa could picture the men of the army going over the walls, it would be bloody work. They would win in the end but at a cost. She wished for another way. If only Roose Bolton would surrender or they didn’t have to fight on the walls. “Is there any other way?”

Willas traced the base of the candle holder idly while looking into the flame. “The wildfire.” He said. “We can pack it into the siege tower, roll it up to the wall and blast a hole in it. That should give our men an easy enough way into the castle. It may even cause Bolton's men to give up.”

Sansa did not respond but looked out the window.

“If you-“

“No.” Sansa put her hand on Willas’s own. “You think this will save lives?”

“It’s better for our men to not have to scale the walls.” He said earnestly.

Is this what Robb felt when he was ordering men into battle? What father felt when he was Lord of Winterfell? What her own husband felt during these past weeks? It was an unpleasant feeling she found, having the lives of so many men in her hands.

“Are there dungeons along this part of the wall?”

Willas looked once more at the map. “No. They are here, at the back of the castle.”

“Then we’ll do it your way. And bring an end to this war quickly.”


	14. The Stark in Winterfell

On the morning of the next day the army readied to leave once again. Their final destination is the Bolton seat of power at the Dreadfort. Enough timber has been gathered to build another bridge on the White Knife and a siege tower when they arrive at the castle. Banners of both the North and the Reach flapped in the wind as one the largest host the North has seen in centuries leaves Winterfell.

Sansa rode on Buttons followed by the Stark banner alongside Willas and two banners of House Tyrell, one for the house and one for his place as its heir. Behind them thunder their large household guard. Ahead of them by half a league the riders of Lord Tarly screen the main force for any threat.

At the White Knife the shipbuilders once more set about creating a safe crossing for the army. The Sheepshead Hills were harder to cross than the plains of the Barrowlands, but they did not present much of an obstacle for the advancing army. A week and a half since they had left Winterfell they combined northern and southern army arrived at the western banks of the Weeping Water.

“It’s ugly.” Bealor Hightower said as he looked at the castle astride his mount. Banners of House Bolton waved in the breeze from the turrets of the castle. Willas had to agree with him, the castle fit its name well; it did indeed give a sense of dread to the person looking at it.

Willas looked back at the army filing down to the river. They would need to set up positions on the hill facing the main gate, as well as secure the river. They could not allow Roose to slip away down the river, if he already hadn’t.

“Lord Rowan.” Willas called out for the man.

The lord approached Willas on horseback. “Yes my lord?”

“Take your men from Goldengrove and secure the river. I don’t want anyone from the fort slipping away downstream.” The lord acknowledged his assignment and moved to collect his men.

“Lord Tarly, your riders are in need again. Send out patrols to secure the surrounding land from Bolton men.” As before the lord in question rode off to do as Willas had bid him.

“Lord Hightower. I’d like an entrenchment five hundred paces from the walls facing northwest. That is where we’ll bring up the siege tower. Also see to it that the builders start to work on it as soon as they can. I’d like to end this quickly.”

Once he was done giving instructions Willas walked his horse over to Sansa who was looking at the castle on the hill. “We can demand their capitulation.” He said, not believing they would do so.

Sansa looked at him. “I’d like that. A chance to avoid bloodshed is a chance we should take.”

“Not something I would have suspected a few months ago.”

Sansa smiled but it did not make it to her blue eyes. “There’s something different about actually being here, seeing the soldiers.” She looked at the men filing by them clad in armor. “If I can save them I will.”

Willas nodded his head in understanding. He was glad to see that her softness had not left her when they marched to war.

* * *

As the sun set fires were blazing all along the river and the hill outside the Dreadfort. Sentry lights were alight on the castle as well. The messenger they had sent to the walls under a banner of truce had been shot at from the walls. The man escaped unharmed, the result was that the siege would go on. The Boltons were playing for keeps and Willas did not see a way out for them.

In their tent Willas received updates on the progress of construction. A basic trench was finished outside the walls, with more to be added to it. The river was secure as possible for the time. Guards manned either bank for a full league down river. Patrols from Lord Tarly had not encountered any Bolton men outside the castle. It seemed Lord Bolton planned on waiting them out in his castle. Willas found the whole plan lacking himself. But with no nearby army supporting his castle it seemed inevitable that Roose Bolton would fall.

“You should get some rest.” Sansa placed her hands on Willas’s back.

Willas groaned and leaned back into Sansa. “Well the words are getting harder to read.” He said as he placed the letter he was reading down.

Willas got up on his crutches and moved to the bed. Sansa helped take his armor off and put it up on the armor rack nearby. Once his armor and sword had been stored they sat down on the bed. Sansa went to wind her hands through his hair. It was then that they heard the commotion outside their tent.

Shouts and a few muffled cries issued from the entrance as well as the clanging of weapons. Sansa looked up slowly and confused as to what the noise was. Willa knew instantly and hobbled over to his sword and drew it. His balance was off due to his leg. He was not the best swordsmen when he was training all those years ago, but he was better than a common soldier. Or he had been before his accident.

The flap of the tent was thrown aside to reveal a deranged looking man with dark hair and a cruel grin on his face. He entered the tent with his sword drawn. His eyes flickered between Sansa and Willas. “Lady Sansa, you should not have returned north. I’m willing to make the most of it if you are.” His eyes roamed over her form, Sansa felt disgusted by it. “Maybe I’ll take you to wife myself. No need to kill such a woman like yourself. Then the rest of the Northmen will have to accept our child as heir to Winterfell” His grin widened even more.

Willas positioned himself between the man and Sansa and took up his best guard position he could manage. His body hummed with adrenaline. He hadn’t felt like this since the tourney.

“What’s this? A crippled flower?” The man looked at Willas’s leg. He brought his sword up and quickly thrust at Willas. Willas parried the strike easily. It was a halfhearted attempt at best. It seemed the man was playing with him. “Can’t put much weight on it can you?” A gleam shown from the attackers eyes. “How’s your forearm strength then?” With that he brought his blade high above his head and brought it down on Willas, meaning to cleave him in two.

Willas blocked it with his sword, but nearly lost his balance, trying not to ground himself with both legs to absorb the blow. Seeing the best opportunity to strike back Willas twisted his sword as it was locked together with his opponents. The hilt trapped the blade and Willas threw himself forward with his fist aiming for the man’s face. The man was caught off guard and Willas’s fist found its mark. The man stumbled backwards from the blow. Willas continued forward unable to stop himself from landing on the ground. He desperately reached out to grab ahold of something to pull himself upright.

The dark haired man recovered and brought his sword up with the blade pointing down. He was going to run Willas through. Sansa screamed. “Willas!” She grabbed Willas’s breastplate and rushed forward brandishing it above her head to strike at the man.

The flap of the tent flew open again and Baelor came through into the chaotic room. Quickly he ran his own sword through the stranger that loomed over Willas. He withdrew it and the man fell to the ground.

Sansa and Baelor helped Willas to his feet as he clutched at his sword.

“What is going on?” Willas shouted at Baelor while shifting his head from place to place in the room looking for more assailants.

“A group of men from the castle sallied out and is hitting our camp. There doesn’t appear to be many of them. But there hitting us in all the vital spots.”

Additional men from their detachment of household guard arrived to secure the tent. Outside the sound of fighting were quickly ending. Willas pulled Sansa to his side and limped to the tent flap. Outside several Tyrell men lay dead on the ground. A few tents were on fire in the camp as well.

“Secure the wildfire Baelor, they cannot find it!” Men were running about with buckets and blankets trying to stamp out fires that threatened to spill across the camp. There did not seem to be any more fighting and the immediate threat from the Boltons may have passed.

The attack had sent the whole camp into a commotion. Once it was realized that there were not more Bolton attackers the commanding lords gathered outside of Willas’s tent. Tyrell men dragged the dead man who had attacked Willas and Sansa out of the tent by his arms.

“Who was that?” Sansa asked as she held her husband’s arm.

Mors Crowfood strode forward. “Aye, that’s Roose Bolton’s bastard that is.” He spit on the corpse as it passed. “May the gods curse you and your father.”

“What are your plans for the siege Lord Willas?” Wyman Manderly pushed his way through the other lords with ease.

“We keep working on the siege tower. And make sure this,” He pointed around to the fires. “Does not happen again.” He’d been more concerned about an army attacking them from the rear to consider a small group attacking from the castle.

“You still mean to go over the walls?”

“No.” Willas turned to face the gathering men. “I mean to go through them.”

The lord did not understand how a siege tower would enable them to go through the walls. Such things went over them. “Lord Willas we know in the south they do things differently, but what do you mean through.” A lord Willas did not know spoke up.

“Wildfire my lords. We are going to pack the tower with wildfire and blow a hole in the wall.”

A shocked murmur tore through the assembled men.

Sansa stepped forward to speak to the Northmen. “It is true my lords. My lord husband acquired two wagon loads of wildfire from his sister the queen. I have seen it myself at the battle of the Blackwater. It will do as my husband says it will.”

The Northermen talked amongst themselves before turning back to Sansa and Willas. “We want to be the first in.” Lord Manderly said.

Puzzlement swept across Willas’s features. “You want to be in the forlorn hope?”

“The men of the North should deal with Roose Bolton. This is our land.”

Willas looked to Sansa. She was the Lady of Winterfell and it was up to her to accept or deny her bannermen. He would accept their offer if she did.

“Are you sure of this?” Sansa asked.

“We are my lady. We fought for your father and brother. Let us repay Roose for what he did in the south to your family.” The others agreed, raising a cheer for the Starks and the North.

The north remembers Sansa recalled. They were right. They had fought for her father and brother; to deny them this chance to liberate their land would not be what her father would do.

“Very well Lord Manderly. I thank you for your service to my father and brother before me. And to your continued service to me.” Sansa gave a slight nod of her head in their direction.

* * *

Their tent is cleaned up as best it can. Fresh dirt is brought in to cover up the blood, but Sansa does best to avoid the area where Ramsay fell. Willas’s armor is returned to its stand. But Willas brought his sword to their bed in its scabbard. He set it down beside the bed, within easy arm's reach should he find need of it. He prays he will not. He will need to find a way to fight better on his bad leg he thought. He nearly failed. In many respects he did, were it not for his uncle Sansa may have -. The thoughts are not pleasant so he does his best to banish them. He will practice when he is able. He will not fail his wife again.

Sansa placed herself in Willas’s lap, wrapping her arms around him to try and burrow into his body. She takes comfort in his arms and the feel of his heart beating under her hands as they roam across his chest and back.

Neither Sansa or Willas slept well that night. They lay curled up together taking turns dozing off until the first rays of dawn came up over the horizon. When dawn does arrive both are bleary eyed and Willas is sore from his scuffle.

In the light of dawn the men of the Arbor resume construction on the siege tower. More guards are set around the tent of containing the carts of wildfire and men now guard the siege tower as it starts to make form and rise to the sky. After several days of constant work it was complete.

The tower was nearly as tall as the walls of the castle. Instead of ferrying men onto the walls this tower would hold barrels of wildfire. The outer walls of the structure were draped with animal hides that had been soaked in water to make the wood fire resistant.

With the siege tower completed a final war council was called to plan the storming of the Dreadfort. In the command tent the lords of the North and the Reach gathered around a large table.

“I say we do it tonight.” Baelor suggested. “It looks like it might rain any day now and the mud will bog the tower down.”

“I’m with him.” Mors Crowfood said, jerking his thumb in Baelors direction. The other Northman agreed.

“Tonight then.” Willas said. “The men of White Harbor have volunteered to be the first men into the Dreadfort.” Willas raised his cup to Lord Manderly. “May the gods, old and new, watch over your men my lord.” The others raised their cups in salute as well. “Might I also suggest Lord Manderly that your men tie white strips of cloth to their sword arms. It will make it easier to tell friend from foe when the melee starts.”

“A good suggestion my lord. I will tell my men.”

“Once again I would like to offer my thanks for coming to the aid of my house when I called.” Sansa said to the group. This was still new to her but she drew strength from her heritage. Her own lady mother had negotiated with Lord Renly and many others, she would do the same. “I will pray to the gods to see you all safely in Winterfell for the victory feast.”

The men filed out and went on their way to their own men. Sansa stood next to Willas as he looked out the tent to the castle walls in the distance. “When I was young father laid siege to Storm's End for the better part of a year. If all goes well we won’t have to wait that long.”

Sansa looped her arm through his before speaking. “I’ll be happy when this is all over. Then we can focus on rebuilding.”

“Me to.” Willas said as leaning in to brush back her hair and place a kiss on her head.

* * *

That night the siege tower was stocked with the volatile cargo the Tyrells had brought from the Reach. The Northmen lined up behind the tower to push it into position. Large mobile shields were dragged along the ground beside the tower to provide protection to the men doing the pushing.

As they neared the wall the hail of arrows increased. All manner of objects began to rain down from the walls onto the tower. Fire arrows did not catch since the watered down skins snuffed out most that landed on their target. When the tower came to a halt near the wall most of the men who had pushed it there ran back toward the safety of their lines. One man, the fastest runner they could find, stayed behind to light the casks of wildfire.

“You really do think this will work?” Baelor asked Willas. The command tent overlooked the castle and the siege tower from behind. All in front of them rank upon rank of Northmen prepared to rush forward into battle. Behind them stood the army of the Reach.

“I do.” Willas said. “If-”

Willas was drowned out by a roar of green fire that erupted from the siege tower. Everyone within sight of the explosion bent backwards and covered their face. Even from as far back as the command tent people could feel the slight warmth from the fire.

“By the seven.” Baelor whispered as he looked on. Bits of rock and debris from the stone wall where raining down on the field around the castle. A cheer went up from the waiting soldiers.

The green fire engulfed the wall; it burned everything it came in contact with. Not a single blade of grass, shrub, or small tree stood when the fires abated. The wall was completely destroyed in the area the siege tower had occupied. A small indent in the rocky ground was all that remained. The hole was unguarded as the Boltons had not yet reacted to their walls being breached.

“Send them in.” The order was given by Willas to the different commanders around the tent.

From the command tent the battle seemed a hands off business. They could see some of the fighting and hear it, but it was far enough to be impersonal. Willas hated it. His brothers had led the charge of their forces at the walls of King’s Landing and now he sat back while his men stormed the Dreadfort. Unable to pace properly he shuffled back and forth with the help of his cane. Sansa followed him with her eyes, not bothering to tell him to stop.

The fighting lasted for close to an hour. The surprise and overwhelming numbers of their enemies caused the Bolton men to lay down their arms, choosing to surrender than fight to the death. Casualties for the attackers were not terrible. Men who were wounded entered the camp, carried by comrades or on litters. They were not the only person to be dragged back into the camp.

Roose Bolton was captured and drug out of his keep in irons. He was brought before Sansa to be judged by his Lady.

Sansa had seen Roose Bolton before when he had come to Winterfell to meet with her father; it was obvious the man had seen better days. Even by torchlight she could see the dark rings around his eyes. When he was deposited before her he stumbled to his knee before righting himself. As he had the last time she saw him he maintained a blank expression, not giving away what was going on in his mind.

“Lady Stark.” Lord Bolton drawled as he stood in front of where she was seated. Willas sat beside her, many of the Northmen along with Baelor stood around in a semicircle watching the proceedings.

“Lord Bolton. Your castle has fallen and I have accepted the surrender of your men.”

“So it would seem.” The man still betrayed no hint of emotion.

“You have taken up arms against your rightful Lady my lord. You also killed my brother and mother along with all their accompanying men.” Sansa took a breath to steady herself. “The penalty for treason is death Lord Bolton. Do you deny the accusations?”

Roose Bolton stared into Sansa’s eyes. “I do not.”

“Your Lannister friends are not here to save you Lord Bolton. Is that your final plea?”

The man said nothing in reply. The other lords began calling for his head and reaching for their swords. Tyrell guards came between them preventing the Northmen from grabbing Bolton. “Your bastard is dead Roose, and soon you’ll join him!” One yelled out. “Aye, for Robb!” Came a cry from another.

“Then I sentence you to death, Lord Bolton, for the crime of treason.” Sansa’s voice was cold and stiff. She felt oddly detached from what was happening. As if her body was acting on its own accord. “I also hereby strip you of your titles and lands, for yourself and any descendants, from this day until the end of days.” Sansa sought Lord Manderly’s gaze. “Lord Manderly. Please see to it that the sentence is carried out immediately.”

The man bowed as best he could. “Yes my lady.”

Roose Bolton was escorted away to see justice done. Sansa sat down on the seat next to Willas. Her gaze was fixed straight ahead and she jumped slightly when a hand touched hers. She turned to her husband. “I’m conflicted again.” She started slowly. “It’s good that Roose Bolton will pay for his crimes. But I-“

“You would trade him for your family.”

“I would.” She looked at him pleadingly. “Does that make me a bad leader? Will they still follow me if they knew?”

“No, it makes you human. And they will still follow because you are your father’s daughter.” He leaned in closer to her. “In more ways than one I’m willing to wager.”

* * *

The army departed back to Winterfell having completed their goal. They freed several captives from Winterfell that the Bolton’s had taken, Old Nan was not one of the survivors to Sansa’s dismay. Some of the lords had already started jockeying for position to come into ownership of the now ruined Dreadfort and its attendant lands. At the moment Sansa was unsure of what to do with the land. Willas advised her not to rush into a decision and to keep the lords waiting for a while. At least until the army dissipated so as to avoid any skirmishing breaking out between lords.

On the ride back Willas began to show fatigue from all the traveling he had been doing. His leg pained him even more and it was harder to keep it from showing. Not that he would be able to hide it from Sansa if he wanted to by now. For his own pride Sansa did not mention it when they were amongst others. She bit her tongue when he began to slump slightly forward in his saddle trying to keep from crying out because of the pain.

Sansa breathed out a sigh of relief, both for herself and her husband, when the gates of Winterfell appeared in the distance. “Not long my love.” She said over the wind. “We’ll be in Winterfell soon.” Willas smiled back but was clearly in pain.

In the courtyard Sansa dismounted first and went to her husband’s side. There she helped Willas down with the assistance of Baelor. They escorted Willas up the steps inside. “I can take him from here, thank you my lord.” Baelor left in search of food while Sansa continued on into the residences of the keep. This time she headed for the Lord and Lady’s rooms. Her parents’ rooms. She had thought about moving their before. It seemed like trespassing, but now she was the Lady of Winterfell and she knew her father would always want a Stark to occupy those rooms. She also did not like staying in her old room. Too much had changed she felt.

“I don’t remember these rooms.” Willas looked around the room taking in every nook and cranny. It was different than what he was use to in Highgarden. Everything seemed rustic compared to his home. The room though was finely decorated and obviously meant for an important person. The bed was similar to the one in Sansa’s room. A large wooden frame carved from a beautiful pine tree that was piled with furs.

“My parents’ room.” Was all Sansa said. She took him to the bed and helped him down onto it. After rearranging some of the furs she sat down next to him. “Do you want some dreamwine or milk of the poppy? I know you’re in pain Willas.”

Willas rubbed his ruined knee. “Dreamwine.”

Sansa looked around and to see that nothing of theirs was in the room still. She went to the door and called for a servant. “There is a small medical chest in my old room. Could you please fetch it?”

The servant girl curtsied. “Yes my lady.”

In quick order Sansa cleared out some objects that had been left behind by the Bolton’s. She would have to see the castle completely scrubbed of Bolton personal effects. She had completed her scouring of the room when the servant returned with the small chest. Opening it she withdrew the small flask of dreamwine and poured out a measuring into a cup. She handed it to her husband who drank it quickly.

* * *

Willas had dozed off after taking the dreamwine. Sansa stole a final glance at her husband and left the room. While they had not been away that long at the Dreadfort, it seemed that some semblance of life was returning to Winterfell. Servants were able to go about their tasks without fear of the Boltons or their soldiers. The banners of the flayed man were replaced with the banners of the dire wolf.

Sansa passed through the doors and into the courtyard. There she walked to the iron gates of the godswood. She walked through the peaceful canopy of trees to the heart tree. There she sat down by the dark water, what little light that made its way through the trees reflected of the still water. She prayed to the old gods, to thank them for victory and to tell her family that they had been avenged. She was still bowed in prayer when a familiar voice spoke from behind her.

“Sansa?”

Sansa opened her eyes and spun around. She hadn’t heard that voice in over two years, but she would still know it anywhere.

“Arya!” Sansa’s voice was thick with emotion. She scrambled to her feet and ran to her sister. “Arya!” She threw her arms around the small form of Arya. Tears clouded her view, but she could tell Arya was equally as happy to see her.

“I had given up hope of seeing you again.” Sansa wiped her tears and looked her sister over. She had that silly sword on her hip still and was wearing a plain jacket and pants. Her face was worn and a little thin, her hair was cut short so she could pass as a boy, but it was Arya.

Questions began pouring into Sansa’s head. “Where have you been? Have you been in Winterfell the whole time?” She tried to compose herself and give Arya a chance to breathe and tell her story.

“No, I’ve been in Braavos mostly.” Ayra could see the worry in her sister's’ eyes at the mention of the city in Essos. “At first a man from the Night's Watch smuggled me out of the capital.” Arya looked into Sansa’s eyes. “I was there when it… happened. I saw you; I wanted to do something anything, but…” The executioner was on her list, he would pay one day. So would the rest of the Lannisters.

Sansa and Arya sat down by the water. “We went north and Lannister men caught up with us. Eventually I tried to make it to the Vale and aunt Lysa. That didn’t work out.” Sansa had heard of her aunt's death, she had never met the woman and compared to the rest of her family the impact was not as great. “After that I found my way to Braavos . I was still there when I heard of your marriage. Then I found out you’d come back home, with an army no less.”

Leaves fell from the heart tree around them. Sana picked one up idly and started picking at it.

“So you’re Lady of Winterfell now?” Arya asked.

Sansa nodded her head. “I am.”

“Does that mean I’m your heir then?”

Sansa thought about the question. “It does. Until I have a child at least.” Hopefully that would happen soon after they returned to Highgarden.

“I saw you return. The man, in the courtyard, that you helped off the horse. Is that your husband?”

Sansa smiled, though the idea that Ayra had been watching them was a bit concerning. “How long have you been watching us?”

“I just arrived yesterday. Hid outside the walls when I learned you were coming back. I decided to wait and see you first.”

Sansa guessed the response made sense. Not many people were likely to take her word for it if she walked up and announced that she was long lost Arya Stark. “I see. Well, yes he is my husband. His name is Willas.”

“Was he hurt in the battle? He seemed to limp.” Arya stabbed at a leaf with needle.

“No, he hurt his leg in a tournament. He always has a limp. He uses crutches usually to help walk.”

Ayra fixed her sister with a skeptical gaze. “You married a cripple?”

“Arya!” Sansa looked her sister with a scandalized expression. “He is _not_ crippled. You wouldn’t say the same about Bran would you?” She asked with a scolding tone.

“No.” Arya looked away at the mention of their brother. “I thought you were going to marry Joffrey?”

“I was.” Sansa sighed and looked through the trees to the sun. “Until the Stannis tried to take the throne. After the Tyrell family came to the capital Margaery offered me a way out. I was more than happy to go to Highgarden instead of stay and marry Joffrey.” At the time she did not know the full extent of her goodsisters desire to become queen. Still, the end result was for the best Sansa reminded herself. Margaery eventually married a decent man, who helped put her in the position she was now in, and Sansa married her own kindly husband.

“You’ve been cleaning up the castle I saw.” Arya noted trying to change the subject.

“I have. I hope it will look like it did once before all of this happened.”

“Is my room still intact?” Arya didn’t have an incredibly fond connection to her room in Winterfell, but she was curious as to how things had changed.

“I don’t know.” Sansa answered slowly. “I’ve seen my room, it’s changed quite a bit. And mother and father's room is nothing like It was.” Speaking of her parents switched something in Sansa mind. When was the last time her sister ate or slept, or for that matter bathed? She stood up and held out her hand.

“Come, let’s go inside. It will be more comfortable, and you can clean up and see everything for yourself.”

Arya frowned at being told what to do like she was a child again. She had been surviving on her own for longer than Sansa ever could. Instead of fighting her sister she joined her on her way to the keep. The two had usually been on opposite ends of everything growing up. Hobbies, temperament, looks, the siblings were almost as different as they could be. It was a little odd then when Sansa held out her hand to clasp her sisters in. Arya offered it without saying anything and the two walked into the keep together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this work incomplete for the time being because I'm a little burnt out at the moment. I've started on the next chapter and plan on having that one or an additional one be the final chapter. So this story is almost done. I have the rest of it outlined and have ideas on what I want to do.
> 
> I thought about waiting until it was complete before posting but I wanted to post it while I still had the courage.


	15. Return to Highgarden

Willas did not awaken that night and was still sleeping off the dreamwine he had taken the day prior.  Not wanting to be away from her husband when he was due to awake, Sansa stayed in their room for her morning meal.  She invited Arya to come and break her fast in their parents’ room.  A small table was in the corner of the room, as far from the bed as possible.  She did not think Willas would be displeased by allowing her sister to sit with her and invade their privacy; he was never cross with her like Joffrey eternally was.

When they first entered the room Arya eyed Willas with suspicion.  In his sleep he looked younger Sansa thought, though his facial hair made him look older than he was in any light.  Arya approached to within several paces of the bed and gazed at him.  “He’s too old.”  Arya returned to her sister and sat down at the table.  An assortment of traditional northern foods was spread before them.  “He’s too old for you Sansa.”

“It’s done Arya.  Willas is my husband and I am his wife.  And he’s not too old for me.  He isn’t old enough to be my father like aunt Lysa’s husband was.”  Sansa finished filling her plate with food and started on filling one for Arya.

The siblings ate in relative silence until motion began on the bed.  Willas started to detangle himself from the bed furs.  He still thought they were strange compared to their own in the south, but they were warm against the night air.  He stopped after noticing the other women in the room and seemed to stare at Arya for some time.  Arya, undaunted by his gaze, settled in her chair and kept eye contact with her goodbrother.

Sansa got up from her place and went to her husband.  “Willas.”  She said with bright eyes.  “Good morning, are you feeling better?”

Willas broke eye contact with Arya to answer his wife.  “Yes.  Much better than last night.”  He looked back at the young girl sitting at the breakfast table.  “Sansa.”  He began slowly.  He did not recognize this young girl.  She did not appear to be a servant, but who was she?  “Who is this?”

Sansa sat on the bed and reached for Willas’s hands.  “I’m sorry to have brought her into our rooms unannounced.  But I could not bear to be separated from her for too long.  And you were asleep.”  The hold she had on his hand increased.  “Arya is alive Willas!  My sister is _alive_.  I am not the last of my family.”  Her eyes filled with tears and her voice quivered with emotion.

Willas one again looked between the two women.  They did not share a particular similar appearance.  Very different from all of his parents children who looked alike in one way or another.  He came to the conclusion that Ayra must have taken after his goodfather more than goodmother like Sansa had.

“You’re Arya Stark?”  Willas addressed the girl at the table.

She inclined her head to the side.  “I am.”

“A pleasure to meet you then.”  Willas struggled up onto his elbows then to his hands.  Sansa moved to help him up.  He was still sleeping in his clothes and was decent enough for company.  With his wife’s help Willas made it over to the table to partake in their meal.

“I’m sure you’ve told your sister how you came to be here in Winterfell.”  Willas looked over his goodsister.  She did not have the air of a lady, very much like Sansa had described her to be.  “If you would tell me I’d be very interested to hear your tale.”

Arya gave her own sweeping look over Willas before deciding to indulge him with her story of survival.  Over breakfast Ayra explained to Willas how she had evaded the Lannisters and what she had been doing since her disappearance from the King’s Landing.

Her tale left him speechless.  The things the young girl had been through and by all accounts persevered through were astonishing.

* * *

 They finished up their meal and left for the main courtyard.  All around them soldiers wandered about interspersed with the occasional worker seeing to repairs to the old castle.

“With some work I don’t think it will take too much to get it looking like it did before.”  Sansa said to both her husband and sister.  “Nothing was damaged that badly.”

“If needed we can have some of the men from the army help out.  It will give them something to do for the time being.”  Willas said.

Sansa smiled at Willas.  “Perhaps we can even make it better.”  She pointed to the burned tower.  “We could fix the old burned tower.  It’s been that way for so long.”

“We should start off with an inventory of what raw materials are already on hand.  Then work out what we think will be needed to complete repairs to Winterfell.”  Willas said.

The rest of the morning was spent going over what few records the Bolton’s had kept regarding stores of necessary materials.  After figuring out that there was not enough stone for the tower to be restored men were sent out to gather some from a quarry and haul it back to Winterfell.

During the day Sansa and Willas oversaw most of the restoration work; even Aria seemed to want to help and was welcomed to join in by Sansa.  While the work progressed well it would still be several months before it was completed.

* * *

 Not long into the rebuilding of the castle a raven arrived.  The dark green wax and stamp of the House Tyrell of the Brightwater Keep told Willas it was from his brother.  He and Sansa were sitting in the master bedchamber after the sun had gone down for the day.  “It’s from Garlan.”  Willas said as he looked up at his wife who was busy with some bit of embroidery.

Willas quickly read over the letters contents.  Sansa put down her work and moved to sit down by her husband.  When she noticed his grin her curiosity increased.

“Willas?  I hope it is good news.  Is it about Leonette and the baby?”  Sansa had been waiting for news of a birth from her goodbrother and his wife for several weeks now.  Leonette would have been due anytime in the past month.  After regular ravens south had been reestablished news from Brightwater Keep had been some of the most anticipated.

Willas handed her the letter, the grin still on his face.  Trying to contain her eagerness Sansa took the letter and began reading.  Her face lit up like her husband’s when she reached the words she was hoping for.

“Oh Willas, a boy.  A baby boy!”

Willas nodded at her, his grin growing into a full blown smile.

“Leyton.  They named him after your grandfather?”  Sansa finished reading the letter and placed it down.

“Possibly.  It’s a good name at any rate.  And given how close the Hightower is to Brightwater Keep.  It couldn’t hurt to curry some favor.”

Sansa glanced at the letter beside her.  “Garlan said Leonette is fine and what the name of his son is, but what does he look like?”

“Hmmm?”  Willas gave her a puzzled look.

“What does he look like?”  She repeated.  “Does he have any hair yet?  What color are his eyes?  Does he favor his mother or father more?”  Sansa rambled off the questions that were flying into her head about the new child.

Willas gave a soft chuckle at his wife.

“What?”  She asked with a hint of reproach.

“Nothing.  It’s just I think he may have been in a hurry to get that letter out, he probably had other to send and wanted to get back to Leonette and Leyton.”

Sansa huffed.  “I suppose.  It is a rather short letter, even for Garlan.  Still I would like to know.”

Willas gave her a playful look.

Sansa stood up and smoothed out her dress.  “Men.”  She said with her own playful indignation and left the room with a chuckling Willas behind to compose her own letter of congratulations to the new parents.

* * *

 As repairs continued in Winterfell the Northern lords returned to their own homes.  Before leaving every one of them had sworn loyalty to Sansa and to her son that would inherit the North one day.  A large number of the forces from the Reach had also begun the journey back south since they were not needed in the rebuilding and were a drain on local food stores.  Eventually only the Arbor ship builders remained along with Willa’s personal guard.

Further news from the Reach arrived, including the successful naval expedition to the Iron Islands as retaliation for their attacks on the Shield Islands.  Numerous Ironborn raider ships had been sunk and several shipyards had been put to the torch.  Paxter Redwyne sent his hope that the Iron Islands would not be able to bring their numbers back to previous strength for several years.

Sansa had received the news with solemn approval.  She bore no warm feelings for the Ironborn after what they had done to her brothers and their attempts at carving up the North for themselves.

By now the scorch marks from the fires that had destroyed the castle had been scrubbed out or covered up with paint or a veneer of stone and wood.  The old burned tower took the longest to rebuild but it to once again stood proud against the backdrop of the cool Northern sky.

One of the most important, and personal, areas undergoing work for Sansa was the crypts.  Fine stone was brought in and used in the creation of several sarcophagi, that would remain empty, to be added to the Stark crypt.  Sansa and Arya oversaw the stonecutters as they worked to shape likenesses of their family.  The process was bittersweet for the sisters.  The end result was beautiful though.

When the work was completed a small service was conducted by both the old gods and the faith of the seven for the deceased Starks.  Sensing that the two sisters wanted to talk but were not in his presence Willas excused himself and left.  The remaining young women stood in silence looking at the stone representation of their mother.

Arya was the first to speak.  “You’re going to leave soon aren’t you?”  It was more a statement than question.

Sansa sighed.  “Yes.  Work is almost done and my place is in Highgarden.”

Arya rounded on her sister, anger clear on her face.  “You’re the Lady of Winterfell, you _belong_ here.  In the North like it has always been.”

Sansa struggled to keep a calm demeanor when she spoke.  “I am Lady of Winterfell, but my husband is heir to Highgarden.  We have no desire to remain on opposite sides of the kingdom.  We will return to the Reach and raise our family there.”

“Your family?  You’re not…”  Arya motioned to her sister’s stomach.  “… are you?”

Sansa rolled her eyes.  “No I am not Arya.  But I will be someday and I want to raise my children in Highgarden with their father.”

“Then how do you plan on ruling the North?”  Ayra crossed her arms over her chest.  “If you are in the south?”

“I’ll still be able to send ravens to you about major decisions.  But the day to day I’ll leave up to you to decide.”

Arya looked surprised at her sister’s statement.  “You’re giving me Winterfell?”

“Arya, you are my heir for the time being and a Stark.  Who else should be managing Winterfell in my absence?  And I am not giving you Winterfell.”  She added.  “I’m giving you the Dreadfort.”

“The Dreadfort?”

“Yes.  The other lords have been falling over themselves trying to get in line for it.  I figure I trust you more than them.  And… you always wanted to have a castle of your own when we were younger.  You never wanted to be a lady.”

“I…”  Arya looked to the statue of her father, remembering a conversation she had had with him in which she had asked if she could be the lady of a castle.  “I did. Didn’t I?”

Sansa walked closer to her sister and placed her hand on her shoulder.  “It is not in the best condition right now, but you will always have a home here in Winterfell and you will need to stay here when I leave.”

Tears blurred Arya’s vision.  “So what?  I get to stay here and you, my last family member, have to go south and have children for you husband?”

Sansa reached out and drew Arya closer to her as she started to cry.  “Arya, stop using Willas as a target for you not liking how things are now.  Yes, we need to provide heirs to two of the seven realms.  That is part of our responsibility.”  She gently pulled her sister’s face where she could look at her properly.  “And part of yours will be to oversee our home here in the North.  I know you will do a good job of it.”

* * *

 Willas wandered into the godswood with his crutches, careful to avoid any loose twigs or roots on his path.  During his time in Winterfell he had learned the path to the heart tree, most likely where his wife was at the moment.  She was indeed there, her red hair nearly matching the red leaves of the tree.

At the sound of his approach Sansa turned to him and smiled.  Willas laid his crutches on the ground and sat next to her.

“I’m not interrupting am I?”

Sansa shook her head.  “No.  I was just about to come looking for you.”

“Something important?”  Willas got the feeling she had something important on her mind.

“I think.  I think it is time to return to Highgarden.”  She said finally.  “The repairs are complete; Arya has accepted her new land and place her at Winterfell.  I have done what I can here and now I think it is time to return home.”  She smiled at Willas “I am eager to see little Leyton as well.”

“This is a home to you as well.  It’s been nice to see where you grew up.  You seem at ease here in the godswood every time I come here as well.”

“It has been good in many ways to be back here.”  She sighed and looked around at the brightly colored leaves.  “But there are still five holes in Winterfell that can never be repaired.”

The two lapsed into silence; the only sound that of the leaves falling from nearby trees.

“When would you like to leave then?  Have you told Arya?”  Willas finally asked.

“Yes, I have told her.  When I offered her the Dreadfort I told her I would most likely be leaving soon.”  Willas nodded.  “As soon as we can get the supplies together, we can leave then.”

“I’ll speak to the captain in the morning then.  It shouldn’t take much time to get together the things we need.  We’ll make better time heading south now that it’s just us riders.”

Sansa stood and helped Willas to his feet.  “Come; let us take a walk around the godswood one last time then.”  She handed him his crutches and set off through the winding path in the trees.

* * *

 The air was chilly on the morning the Tyrell host was set to leave Winterfell.  The contingent of Tyrell men awaited Willas and Sansa in the castle courtyard.  In the master bedchambers Sansa and Willas were preparing to leave.  Servants were busy carrying what few items remained down to be put on horses.

After she had secured her cloak around her shoulders Sansa turned and looked around the room.  It would be the last time she saw it in years most likely.  “Willas?”

Her husband looked up from the bed where he was tightening the straps on his leg brace.  “Yes?”

“Whenever our children are a little older… would you be willing to come back.  I would like to visit again and to show them Winterfell.  Our son will be lord of it one day.  I think it would be good for him to see it before he inherits it.”

“I think that’s a good idea.  I know I wouldn’t mind coming back.”  He looked back at his leg.  “And If I cannot make the trip you can always go by yourself.  Not that I would not miss you.”  He added quickly.

“It may be a decade by the time we can come back.”  She looked out the window to the view outside.

“But you will see it again.”  He rose from the bed and reached for his crutches.  Coming to her side he reached for her hand.

“It is so strange thinking about coming back with children through.”  She felt her husband shift on his weight.  “It’s not a bad strange, just… different.”

“I think I can understand the feeling.”

A knock sounded from the door and Sansa called out for the person to enter.  The door opened and Arya entered the room.  “They’re waiting, out in the courtyard.”

Sansa gave a final look to the room and turned to Willas.  “Shall we go?”

“I’m ready if you are.”  The trio exited the room and made their way through the halls of the keep.

It was so different from the last time Sansa had left Winterfell.  It almost felt like another lifetime.  Then she had been excited to travel with her father to the capital.  Everything then had seemed so fantastical and new.  Instead she felt as if everything was now much more serious.

At the entryway servants were lined up to say farewell to the Lady of Winterfell.  Sansa made sure to thank them for their service.  In return each person she talked to thanked Sansa for returning and removing the Bolton’s from the North.

Outside in the cool air Willas mounted his horse and strapped his leg into the saddle.  Arya came and stood by his mount.

“Goodbye Lord Willas, have a safe journey.  And… take care of my sister.”

“Thank you lady Arya.”  He nodded at her.  “I will, you have my word.”  She looked like she had something else to add but merely returned his nod and went to her sister.

Sansa was stroking Buttons nose when Arya approached, letting go of the horse she held out her arms to her sister.  Arya accepted the embrace and whispered in her ear.  “And you take care as well.  Come back when you get the chance.”

“I will.”  Sansa wiped at her eyes.  “When we stop and can get a raven out I will write to you.  When we reach Highgarden I expect regular ravens.”

“I’ll purchase more if I have to.  I suspect you two may want to fill the skies between Winterfell and Highgarden with the birds.”  Willas said from his horse.

Sansa laughed and held her sister tight.  When the two had separated Ayra held Buttons while Sansa situated herself in the saddle.  When she was settled she picked up the reigns.  “Goodbye Arya.  Take care of Winterfell for me.”

“It will be fine Sansa.”  Arya’s voice carried her indignation.

The troop started toward the gates of the castle at a trot.  Arya jogged with them to the walls.  As they filed out through the gate Sansa turned one last time to catch her sister waving at her.  Lifting her own arm Sansa bid goodbye to Arya and Winterfell.

* * *

 Over the next several months the future Lord and Lady of Highgarden made their way south through the North and the Riverlands until they arrived at the borders of the Reach.  Sansa’s subdued mood improved when they had arrived in her uncle’s land.  They ended up celebrating Sansa’s ten-and-five name day at an inn along the Green Fork.  Willas ended up apologizing for a lack of lemon cakes, but Sansa assured him it was alright, provided they have some ready when they arrived in Highgarden.

When the party finally entered the Reach ravens were dispatched to Highgarden with their estimated arrival at the Tyrell seat.  The closer they traveled to their destination the more and more growth of overtype of grain and fruit imaginable increased.   “It seems the planting season went well.”  Willas called to Sansa as they rode.

“It does, it is quite beautiful to see.”  The region they were passing through was famed for its wheat.  It looked like this particular planting would yield a bumper crop for the farmers.  Sansa hoped there would be enough space in the local silos for the large yield.  Something she had never before considered before her marriage was storing a large harvest.  During her time with Willas she had learned that if farmers could not store their entire crop it could be left to rot in the fields, which caused problems of its own.

When they reached the Rose Road they turned southwest toward Highgarden.  The experience reminded Sansa of her first time traveling this same stretch of road with Garlan and Leonette just a few years before.  When the large white walls and towers of Highgarden appeared on the horizon Sansa exchanged a smile with her husband.  They were nearly home.

Under the furl of Tyrell banners and Sansa’s own lone Stark sigil the troop of riders finally came to a halt inside the castle courtyard.  Lord and Lady Tyrell awaited the younger couple at the bottom of the stairs.  Lord Tryell himself came to assist Sansa from her steed.  “Welcome home lady Sansa.”  The large man said in his usual cheerful voice.

“Thank you my lord.”  Sansa heard her husband suppressed grunt when he landed on the one leg on the stone pavement.  He appeared to be stiff from all the traveling they had been doing and weary for the soft bed in the chambers.  For that matter so was Sansa.

“Welcome home dear.”  Lady Tyrell wrapped her arms around Sansa.  “Not even a year has gone by and you have grown so much.”  The older woman smiled at her.

“It is good to see you too.”

Willas came around the horses on his crutches and embraced his mother and father.

“There’s a small feast planned to celebrate your victory in the North and your return.”  Mace slapped his son on the back, while Alerie looked on with sympathy to her son.   Knowing he never did enjoy gatherings like feasts.

“I hope you didn’t plan it for tonight father.  We have just arrived and it’s been a long journey.”

“Oh, of course not, it will be tomorrow in the main hall.”  Lord Tyrell led the group up the steps describing in detail all the food and drink he had prepared for the upcoming celebrations.

When they got to the top of the stairs Alerie looped her arm through her husband's.  “Mace dear, why don’t you show me the menu one more time.  I think it can use a glance one more time before tomorrow evening.”

“Certainly my dear.”  The man said with a beaming smile.  As they made their way off toward the kitchens Alerie cast a knowing look back and her son and good daughter.  Sansa caught her husband mouthing thank you to his mother and stifled a laugh with her hand.

“How about we have something brought up to our chambers?”  Willas said to Sansa.  “It’s getting on in the evening and I’d like to retire a little early tonight.”  He pulled at the straps on his leg brace.

“That sounds fine to me.  We should get you out of that brace.”

Making their way through the familiar halls of Highgarden was comforting; nothing had changed in their time away.  Once they opened the door to their common room they found Kristyne waiting for them.  The woman gave a curtsy when the couple entered the room.  “Welcome home my lord, my lady.”  She said in turn to Willas and Sansa.

“Hello Kristyne.”  Sansa greeted her handmaiden.  “Could you please send for a meal from the kitchens and have it brought to our sitting room?”

“At once my lady.”

Leading the way to their bedchambers Willas put his crutches up by their bed.  Easing himself down onto a nearby chair he stuck out his leg and began working on the buckles.  Sansa knelt down to his right in order to help him.  Willas let out a relieved sigh when the last strap came free and the wooden contraption fell away.

“That’s so much better.”  He said massaging the muscle around where the straps had been.

“Do you need any dreamwine or milk of the poppy?”  Sansa asked.

“No, it’s just sore from all the riding.  I’ll be alright.”

They moved to the table in the adjoining solar and waited for the meal to be sent up.  After fetching some parchment and writing utensils Sansa started on a letter to her sister.  They had sent several ravens to Winterfell along their journey and Sansa had promised to write when arrived home.

Their meal arrived and they ate in relative silence, both quiet from fatigue.  When the meal was finished and cleared away along with Sansa’s letter they two Tyrell’s reentered their bedchamber and prepared for bed.  Eager for sleep Willas climbed into bed and was asleep within a minute of hitting the pillows.  Smiling to herself Sansa called for Kristyne to help her out of her dress and to take down her hair.  When she too climbed into bed and laid down next to Willas she still had the smile on her face.  While they both had responsibilities that were large, to both the Reach and the North, she was glad that the more difficult and unpleasant tasks of war was thankfully now behind them.  All in all it had gone well she reminded herself, even with the inevitable tragedy of war.

But now they were free from all the planning and fighting, perhaps now her and Willas might truly focus on the building the future.  Now they would grow strong as her new words said.  Fitting words Sansa thought as she laid her head down and let sleep carry her away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arya is for some reason by far the hardest character for me to write.
> 
> There will definitely be at least one more chapter. I may end up dividing it into two, but I'm leaning more toward just one.
> 
> I've also gone back and made a few corrections in earlier chapters. If you notice any errors please feel free to let me know.


	16. Growing Strong

Picking up a new routine in Highgarden was easy for both Sansa and Willas.  Sansa began regular correspondence with Arya and the other lords in the North to keep up with her duties as Lady of Winterfell.  With his eldest son and heir back Mace turned over some of his duties to Willas, though the younger man never minded handling anything his father did not wish to do himself.  Life in Highgarden was easy and smooth compared to life on the road or even as it had been in the confines of Winterfell when it was still rebuilding.

While they had not been able to arrive in time for the victory feast, Garlan and Leonette came with their new son some weeks later to Highgarden.

“Leonette!”  Sansa exclaimed as she approached her friend as she made her way up the steeps to the keep with Garlan.  “It’s so good to see you.”  Leonette said.

“And this must be Leyton.”  Sansa looked to the bundle in her friend's arms.

Lenonette turned sideways toward Sansa to give her a better view of the sleeping babe in her arms.  “He’s been asleep since I fed him this morning.  He’s not due to feed again for a few hours.”

“He’s handsome.”  Sansa said looking at the child.

“He takes after Leonette then?”  Willas grinned mischievously at his brother who laughed dryly at him.

Leonette and Garlan moved on to the eagerly awaiting grandparents in the group.

“Isn’t he adorable?”  Lady Tyrell said to her husband as they looked at the child.  “You must be tired after such a long trip.”  Lady Tyrell motioned for her son and daughter in law to enter the keep.  “Your old suite has been aired out and is ready for you three.”

“Thank you mother.  It is good to be back home.”  Garlan said.

* * *

 Sansa and Leonette sat in a sheltered cove in the vast gardens of the castle.  Nearby their good mother sat with Leonette’s son in her lap.  The young boy was currently enraptured by a rattle she was shaking in her hand.  The peaceful cove offered some respite to the ever warming southern sun.  The three Tyrell men were out hawking with some of Willas’s birds in a nearby field.

Sansa smiled at the scene before them.  “How is it?”  She asked her friend.  “Being a mother I mean.”

“It’s different.  Good, but different.”  Leonette seemed to collect her thoughts on the subject.  “We waited and tried for so long it’s still a bit of a surprise to think we have a son now.”

“You seem to have taken well to it.”

Leonette smiled.  “It’s not all pleasantries all the time.  When he gets fussy at midnight for the fourth night in a row it can get quite tiresome. But it is worth it.”

“How was seeing Winterfell again?  I also heard that you found your sister as well when you were in the North.”

“It was different.”  Sansa said mirroring how Leonette had described things earlier.  “It was not in good condition when we arrived.  And with everything different now…”  Sansa sighed.  “It was better when we left though.  And Arya is there to look after it now.  She will do a good job; she always wanted to be a knight or a lord when we were younger.  But it is good to know that I am not the only living child of my parents still.  We do write to each other though.  I usually receive a raven from Winterfell once a month.”

“Are you worried that the northern lords may not like having a Lady rule them from this far south?”

“I don’t think that will be a problem.  They’ve suffered enough under the Bolton’s and they have been loyal to my family for generations.  If they do get any ideas though, Arya will see to it that they do not forget where their allegiances lay.”

Leyton began to fidget and fuss in his grandmother's arms.  Rising from her spot Lady Tyrell came over to the seated younger women and passed Leyton to his mother.  “It seems someone is hungry.” she said.

Leonette took her son in her arms and excused herself from the other ladies to see to Leyton while Sansa and her goodmother left in search of the hawking party chatting lightheartedly about what possible trouble the men had gotten into while they were out.

* * *

 In the months that followed Garlan and Leonette decided to stay on in Highgarden for the foreseeable future.  Their presence was not required in Brightwater at the moment and the keep there was in the trusted hands of Garlan’s seneschal.  The heat of the summer sun was now in full effect.  Sansa’s fair complexion and northern heritage still did not agree with the midday heat.

Lady Tyrell had invited both of her good daughters to take lunch with her out in the gardens.  With Leyton being watched in his crib while napping by a nurse Leonette arrived without her son.

“You’re looking a little pale today Sansa.”  Alerie said to her youngest good daughter as she set her tea down.

Sansa tried to smile weakly and protest she was fine.  “It’s just the heat I think.”   She fanned herself with an elaborate fan painted with the Tyrell rose.

“You haven’t even touched your lemon cakes.”  Leonette added.

Sansa looked at the small plate before her.  She had not wanted them today, which was odd.  The thought of eating was altogether not appealing.  In fact she would rather not think of it she decided as her stomach churned slightly.  “I haven’t been keen on them recently.  Or much of anything honestly.  I think it’s the heat.  You know I’ve never agreed with it.”

“You should drink something at least.”  Alerie pushed the jug of water on the table toward Sansa.  She picked up the cool jug and poured herself a full cup and drank some.

“The blue winter roses Willas and I put in have been coming in nice.  Perhaps we can go see them after lunch.”  She finished most of the cup and set it aside.

“All the way from Winterfell too.  Our gardens have most types of flowering plants south of the Neck, but not much from the North.  It will be a treat to see them Sansa.”  Lady Tyrell exclaimed.

When the trio had finished their small meal they started off to the garden that was overlooked by Sansa’s room.  Along the way a wave of nausea came over Sansa.  She slowed and came to a stop as the other ladies continued on.  When they realized the younger woman was not keeping pace with them they turned to see her leaning over a bush looking even more pale than before.

“Sansa?”  Leonette called to her.

“I’m… not feeling so well.”  Came the faint reply.  “Just a moment.  Please, just a moment.”

Before they could reach her the young woman promptly fell to her knees and retched into the bush.

“Are you alright sweetling?’  Lady Tyrell helped Sansa to her feet.

“Yes, sorry, it must be the heat.”  Sansa wiped her mouth with the back of her hand in a unladylike manner.  The foul taste was still with her and she wished she had something to wash her mouth with.

“We should get you inside.  And get Willas, he will want to know you are unwell.”  Leonette offered her an arm to hold on to.

“I wouldn’t want to cause a fuss.  There isn’t much to be done except go inside.  I do think I would like to lie down for a bit.”  Sansa tried to reassure her friend.  She really did not want to cause a scene, or let word get out that she had retched in the garden, she would be known as the lady who lost her stomach in the rose bushes if lady Oleena had been in Highgarden.

“Let’s get you inside first.”  Lady Tyrell said with finality.

With either woman on her left and right Sansa was escorted into the keep and up to the suite she shared with Willas.  Instead of heading into their shared room Sansa directed the two women to her own room.  She rarely slept there anymore and had not since returning from the North.  But she did not want the others to go into her and Willas’s room, that was private and for them only.

When she finally laid down on the bed Sansa closed her eyes.  It did feel a little better to be out of the sun and laying down.  Her dress was still restrictive to her so she tried to loosen it.

Noticing her gooddaugher struggling with her dress Alerie turned to Leonette.  “Help her with her dress please Leonette.  I’ll go find her handmaid and get Willas.”  With that she left the younger women alone.

“Here Sansa.”  Leonette came over to the bed and worked at loosening the back of Sansa’s dress.  Sansa groaned slightly as she sat up to give Leonette better access to her dress.  Once the dress was loosened Sansa laid back down.

After a few minutes Kristyne entered the room with a fresh pitcher of water.  “Here milady.  Sip on this.”  She handed Sansa a cup of water.  Sansa took it and sipped at it.  The nausea seemed to have abated some since the garden.

When the familiar sound of her husband’s crutches sounded from her solar her eyes moved to the door to greet him.  “She’s doing a little better now.  Leonette said as Willas came closer to the bed.  Kristyne and Leonette left the couple alone then.

Willas sat on the bed.  Before he could ask Sansa spoke.  “The heat.  I think it was too much today.”

“It has been hot these past few days.”  Willas nodded while he spoke.

Sansa huffed.  “If word gets out I will be known as the lady who lost her lunch in a rose bush.”

Willas chuckled slightly and rubbed his wife’s lower back.  “Unlikely.  I’m afraid uncle Garth has done that plenty of times.”

“He’s called the gross for a reason.”  Sansa looked at her husband pointedly.

Willas considered her statement for a moment before focusing on his wife’s condition.  “You are feeling better now that you’re out of the sun though?”

Sansa nodded her head.  “I hope I did not take you away from something important.  I didn’t want to cause a scene for anyone.”

“Nonsense.  There’s nothing more important to me than you.  And It was good to get away from the ledgers for a while.  Father knows I’ll get them done on time, so there’s no hurry.  How about I stay here with you until dinner.  Then we’ll see if you’d like anything to eat.”

“I’d like that.”  Sansa said with a smile.

Willas went to his study and picked out a book to read out loud for Sansa and the two spent the remainder of the afternoon in each other’s pleasant company.

* * *

 Bouts of nausea continued to plague Sansa over the next few days.  Sometimes they were accompanied by dizziness or headaches.  She was sitting in Garlan and Leonette’s solar along with Lady Tyrell and Leonettte who was holding her sleeping child.  Lady Tyrell had ordered some ginger tea brought up along with her own for Sansa.  Sansa had taken to drinking it on her goodmothers suggestion and it did help with the churning in her stomach.

“There has been some minor flooding along the Mander by Longtable.  Lady Merryweather is asking for help relocating some of the smallfolk affected by it.”  Lady Tyrell was reading a letter while they took their tea.

“You mean she wants someone to deal with the squatters in Longtable.”  Sansa relied dryly.

“Most likely.”  Lady Tyrell folded the letter and put it away.

“Thank you again for the suggesting this tea.”  Sansa took another sip.  “It really has been helpful.  I just hope the weather cools down some and it goes away completely.”

“That’s quite alright.  I too found it soothing when my stomach was unsettled.  It’s probably one of the few friendly suggestions Lady Oleena has given me.”

“Something tells me she wasn’t exactly friendly when she suggested it.”  Leonette quipped from her seat.

“No it wasn’t.  She didn’t like the fact that I was missing some social functions.  It wasn’t proper for a lady she told me to absent from her husband’s side, regardless of the circumstances.  Give it a few more weeks and it may sort itself out.  If not then everything will be right as rain in a few more months I suspect.”

“A few months!”  Sansa said shocked.  “Surely the weather cannot be this hot all the time, even this far south.  Perhaps we can go to the coast, in Oldtown.  I enjoyed visiting there with Willas last time.”

“I don’t think it has anything to do with the weather dear.  Though, it doesn’t help matters.”  Sansa caught Lady Tyrell exchange a look with Leonette and suddenly felt like they knew something she did not.

She squirmed in her seat slightly.  “What do you mean?  What is happening to me?”

“Well, you are showing some of the most common early signs of… being with child.”  Leonete said.

Sansa’s eyes widened when she heard what Leonette had said.  Her hands slowly went to her middle.  She vaguely remembered her own mother being ill sometimes with her youngest siblings, but never really thought the two were related.  “This is normal then?  And will pass?”  Her mind was swimming with questions.

“It is.”  Lady Tyrell assured her.  “We should send for Maester Lomys to see too you for the time being.  Until we can send for a midwife.”

“If I am… please don’t tell anyone, especially Willas, just yet.”  Sansa pleaded with the other two women.

“We wouldn’t dream of telling anyone before you would want us to.”  Alerie assured her goddaughter.  Leonette nodded emphatically.  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves though.  Perhaps you’d like to return to your chambers and I will have maester Lomys meet you there.”

Sansa got up from where she had been sitting and started for the door.  “Alright.”  When she reached the door she stopped and turned around.  “Do you think you can stop by my chambers in a little while?  If you do not have anything pressing before dinner that is?”

“We will be there.”  Was all Lady Tyrell said.

As she walked through the ornate halls of the keep Sansa once again looked at the same painting of the Tyrell family that she had passed on her way the sept to wed Willas those several years earlier.  When would they have a painting done of them and their children?  How many would they have?   They both came from larger families, and she did want a large family.  Willas had never come out and said it, but she had the feeling he would prefer a larger one as well.

When she came to her solar she stopped and sat down on her favorite chair in the room by the fireplace.  The feet of the chair had been carved into wolves’ paws, a gift from shortly after her wedding by a noble family in the Reach.

When the maester finally arrived he proceeded to examine her and ask her some rather personal questions that caused Sansa to blush.

“I would say you are nearly two months along milady.  Congratulations.”  The old man added earnestly.

“Thank you maester Lomy’s.  If I may would you please not tell anyone yet?  I would like to keep this amongst the family for the time.”

“Certainly milady.  Your privacy will be held in confidence.  I can continue to see to you during the coming months or if you would like we can send for a midwife.”

“I would like to have another woman to speak to about this; it is still all so new to me, no offence maester Lomys.  Though I would still like for your own guidance as well.”

The old man smiled.  “None taken milady.  I can have a list brought to you in the morning of all the local midwives I know.  If they are not of my lady’s choosing I am sure I can be of assistance in locating one that is.”

“I am sure that whomever you bring me will be fine.  Thank you again maester.”

With that the man bowed as best he could and left the room.   In the silence Sansa thought about what she had been told.  A child.  She and Willas were going to have a child, a child of their own.

A boy or a girl.  Sansa would like either, but if she was able to provide an heir first it would stop some of the less flattering gossip that occasionally made its way back to her from around the Reach that she was not with child so long after her wedding.  If the rumors did not circulate around her they would inevitably fall on her husband and blame his injury.  The idea of people disparaging Willas caused Sansas temper to flare.  This news would silence them all in time, she smiled to herself.  But how would she tell Willas?  Her confidence began to ebb.  She would tell him tonight, after dinner when they were alone and going to bed.  That was the best time wasn’t it?  When things were quiet and private between the two of them.

Soon thereafter Lady Tyrell and Leonette made their appearance known.  The two women sat down on the settee and looked expectantly at Sansa.

A smile broke out on her face and she felt tears welling up in her eyes.

“Oh, Sansa!”  Leonette said as she got up from the settee and came to lean in by Sansa’s chair.  Sansa accepted the hug from her friend and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so she did both.

“Congratulations dear.”  Lady Leonette said as she watched the younger women embrace.

Sansa wiped her eyes.  “Thank you.  I have a feeling I will asking the both of you every different type of question I come up with in the coming months.”

“That’s all right Sansa.  We’d love to be of any help.”  Leonette offered Sansa her handkerchief.

* * *

 It was several hours later, and two trays of lemon cakes and tea, when the ladies heard the familiar tap of Willas’s crutches.  Hearing the low whispers of the small group coming from his wife’s solar he headed in that direction.  When he entered the room the whispering stopped and the ladies looked in his direction conspiratorially.

“It seems you have been having a good time.”  Willas said as he looked at the near finished tray of lemon cakes and the pot of tea.

“You could say that.”  His mother offered with a smirk.

Willas tilted his head studying his mother.  After looking at her Sansa and finally Leonette he could glean nothing more than they had apparently been enjoying some late refreshments.  “Dinner is ready ladies.  We weren’t sure where you were.  Garlan is looking for you Leonette.”

After saying they would meet again at dinner Lady Tyrell and Leonette left the couple alone in the room.

Sansa approached her husband and kissed his cheek.  “Shall we head on down then?”  After giving her that smile she always loved to see the two started off for the family dinning chamber.

Nothing in the conversation gave Willas any hint that something was different or amiss with his wife.  There were to be several fairs displaying produce that nearby farmers had grown.  Ribbons for the best fruits were traditionally awarded by the ladies of house Tyrell.  Sansa seemed to look forward to it, another one of the tasks she would one day oversee as Lady of Highgarden.

As the meal came to a close however Sansa seemed to grow a little anxious.  Normally the complete embodiment of decorum most others would have not noticed the slight change in behavior, but Willas knew his wife.

His concern was slightly piqued when they left the dining chamber for their suite.  “Is everything all right Sansa?”  Slight concern evident in his voice.

Strangely enough the smile Sansa gave him looked completely genuine.  “Yes, everything is fine.  I just… have something to discuss with you.  In our chambers.”

Willas studied his wife’s profile as they continued on.  Unable to piece together anything more he resigned himself to wait.  Clearly she wanted to discuss this in private.

When they arrived in their room Sansa took off her necklace and laid it in the small box on her vanity.  Behind her Willas put up his crutches and sat down on the bed.  Retreating behind her screen Sansa removed her dress and put on her sleeping shift, wondering if she would need to get a new one made.  For that matter at some point she would need an entirely new set of dresses as well.

Retrieving her comb she returned to the bed and her husband.  Crawling toward him she handed him the comb and turned to settle back against his chest.  The relaxing rhythm of the comb and Willas’s hands lulled Sansa into a near stupor.

She opened her eyes when the motions stopped and she realized Willas had put the comb away.

“Was there something you wanted to tell me?”  She heard her husband ask lightly.

Taking his arms and wrapping them around her she remembered they had been in the same situation the night they had finally consummated their marriage.  This was going to be an equally changing event for the two of them she thought as she ran her own hands over her husband's.

Turning to face him the best she could she finally spoke to Willas about what had been on her mind the entire afternoon.  “I believe congratulations are in order my lord.”  A bright smile lit up her face.  “I am with child.”  She made to intertwine their fingers over her stomach.

All Willas could do was look at his wife as she smiled at him.  “Truly?”

She continued to smile and nodded.

“How long?”  He said almost under his breath.

“How long have I known?  Or how long until the babe arrives?”

Willas looked around thinking.  “Both I guess.”

“I found out today, after lunch to be exact.  Your mother suggested it first.  I thought all the symptoms I’ve been displaying where from the heat.  As for the babe arriving, maester Lomys thinks I’m two months along.  So perhaps in seven months you will be holding your son.”

Willas turned Sansa’s face more towards his own.  “You know I would welcome a daughter just as much.”

“I know.  Still, it would help deal with all the naysayers in the Reach.”

Willas considered arguing with her, but she was right.  It would silence many of the lords and ladies that whispered behind their backs about the lack of an heir.  Instead he brought her lips to his.  “I love you.”

Sansa stroked the side of his face gently.  “And I love you.”

* * *

 The announcement of the coming birth of Willas and Sansa’s first child was not a month later.  Much to Willas’s chagrin his father ordered a large feast to be held in honor of his coming grandchild and possible heir.

When Sansa did begin to show the happy couple watched the changes with each passing month.

One night Willas awoke to realize his wife was also awake and sitting up in their bed.  Her hands held over her now protruding midsection.  “Sansa?”

“We’re fine.”  She replied rubbing her stomach.  “It’s just difficult to sleep when the little one is kicking.”  Exhaustion was clear in her voice.

Relief coursed through Willas that it was nothing serious, only to belatedly realize Sansa was having trouble sleeping.  “Is there anything I can get you if you aren’t going to sleep?”

“Lemon cakes.”  She replied without hesitation.

“Lemon cakes?”

Sansa turned her doe eyes towards her husband.  “Please Willas.  I would ever be so grateful.”

Signing Willas reached for his crutches after pulling on a robe and headed for the door.  “Lemoncake it is.”  Having spent the past few months with a pregnant wife the man knew to indulge in her odd food requests.

Sansa smiled happily as he left in search of her cakes.  “It will be our secret.”  She said to her growing child.  “But I’ve always wanted to get lemon cakes after going to bed.”  The baby kicked just then, seeming to agree to her secret.

* * *

 For the middle of summer it was a cool day.  It made concentrating on the ledgers before him much easier.  Because of this Willas was getting much more work done today and was well in stride when the door to map room opened.  Willas looked over his shoulder to see his brother entering the room.

“Garlan.”

“Willas, it’s time.”

Knowing immediately what he was referring to Willas set down the parchment he had been reading.  “Where is she?”  He asked as Garlan handed him his crutches.

“In the gardens with mother and Leonette.”

“Is she…”

“She’s fine.”  Garlan cut him off.  “Mother said it’s still too early for the babe to arrive, but that you were to come to the gardens.”

The last statement puzzled Willas.  Why were they still in the gardens.  Could they not move Sansa?  Surely they did not intend to deliver the babe amongst the roses, though that would be poetic for a Tyrell.

“Why are they still in the Gardens?  Why not take Sansa to her chambers.”  He asked as they made their way down the hall.  Sansa’s chambers had been prepared to see to the actual delivery of their child and it made sense for them to head there did it not?

“As I said, it’s still too early.”

In the garden the Tyrell ladies were sitting around Sansa, Leonette was holding her hand.  Sansa had a nervous look on her face when the men came into view.

“Are you alright?”  Willas’s mother made room for him to sit next to Sansa.  She nodded.  “Should we get the midwife of maester Lomys?”

“I will see to that.”  Lady Tyrell said to her son.  “You should stay here.  Walking around will help bring things along, and give you something to do in the meantime.”  She added to her goddaughter.

Sansa stood and looked at the small cobblestoned path that wove its way through the rose bushes.  On any other day she would have thought about the beauty of the roses, only this time she did not.

Leonette pulled her husband aside.  “I’m going to check on Leyton and make sure he’s taken care of for the next few hours.  Sansa wanted me with her when she goes to deliver the babe.”  She gave him a kiss.  “Stay with them,just in case Sansa needs help.  Not that Willas isn’t any… but he can’t…. carry her if need be.”

Garlan stole a glance at the two as they were wandering to the rose path.  “I will.”  With one last look Leonette headed off to their chambers.

Garlan kept some distance between his brother and sister in law as they walked ahead of him.  He wanted to be able to reassure Willas, but there would be time for that later.  For now he would allow his brother the company of his wife.

“So you still like Alysanne for a girl and Alester for a boy?”  Sansa asked her husband a question she already knew the answer to.  They had discussed names many times before in the preceding months.

“I do, they are good names.  Dare I say even grandmother can find no fault with them.”

Sansa let a laugh slip past her lips.  “I would not go that far.”  Sansa stopped and shut her eyes, her mouth screwing into a grimace.  She felt her husband’s hand rest on her shoulder.  When she opened her eyes he met her look with a worried expression.

“I’m afraid there is nothing to be done.”  She headed off her husband’s question before he spoke.  She could tell a rebuttal died on his lips.  Instead he smiled weakly and they continued on the path.

For the next half hour the trio wandered through the garden.  When Sansa’s pains became stronger and with shorter intervals she announced that they should move inside to her room.

Inside the keep they passed servants who either gawked shamelessly or tried to hide their obvious curiosity at the future lady of Highgarden.  Kristyne greeted them at the main door to their quarters.

“Milady everything is ready in your room.  Lady Tyrell and lady Leonette are waiting for you, as are maester Lomy’s and the midwife.”

“Thank you Kristyne.”  Sansa leaned against the door frame as another wave of pain hit her.

When they reached the door to her solar she turned to her husband.  Garlan had taken his crutches from him and he stood awkwardly on his good leg.  “The next time I see you we shall have a child my love.”

“Yes.”  He replied.

“Should the worse happen and…”  Willas opened his mouth to protest but Sansa pressed her finger to his lips.  “Please let me say it.  It will ease my conscious.”  He nodded at her words.  “If the worse should happen I and do not leave the birthing chamber alive…”  She swallowed down the emotion that sought to tear its way through her.  “Know that I love you and I have done my utmost for you and our child.”

Willas could do nothing but nod his head and kiss the finger that pressed against his lips.  “I know my love.  You have made me a very happy husband and I know you will make a just as happy father.”

The couple kissed once more before Sansa turned and walked into her chambers leaving a worried Willas behind.

* * *

 It had been four hours since the doors to Sansa’s chamber had closed.  Willas along with Garlan and Mace had taken up position in the entry room to the suite.  They had managed to get Willas to play a game of cyvasse with each of them before he had taken to walking laps around the room.

From Sansa’s wing of the suite a shriek of pain rang out.  Willas’s head shifted to the noise and the immediately stopped his pacing.  Even through the thick doors of the castle he could still hear her cries of pain.  Mace spoke up to his son, the usually lightness of his voice replaced with a more serious tone.

“There is nothing you can do Willas, you know this.  Your mother and Leonette are with her.  As are maester Lomys and the best midwife we could find.”

“I know father.  Just… hearing her and not being able to help…”  He shook his head despairingly.

“Garlan, take your brother for a stroll in the gardens just outside.  Staying in here is doing him no good.”

Willas hesitated as his brother came by his side.

“Come on Willas.  It’ll do you some good.”

Feeling almost like he was admitting defeat Willas agreed to leave the suite.

“Should you be out when the child arrives I will come at once at get you.”

Willas thanked his father and left with Garlan at his side.

“I know how you feel Willas.  Leonette took six hours to bring Leyton into the world.  I could have sworn it was more like twelve.  But that will all change when you see Sansa and your child in the end.”

The sun was already on its way down when Sansa had taken to her chambers.  A macabre thought crossed Willas’s mind of this being the last time the sun would shine on his beautiful wife.

“There you go again.”  Garlan’s voice brought Willas out of his thoughts.  “Assuming the worst.”

“Hmm….  You know me too well.”  He signed before looking up at the setting sun.  “We just celebrated her six and tenth nameday not too long ago.  To think that she may only have that many years in this world… It’s not enough.”

“She, and you will have many more name days Willas.  I am sure of this.”

“How can you know that?”

“I can’t know for certain.  But I do know that she has survived much to get to this point.  She is a fighter and a survivor.  So are you Willas.  You’ve both been through some trying times.  I’d like to think this the beginning of a new chapter for both you and Sansa.  One that will not have any of the dark things that have occurred in the past to you happen in the future.  The gods know you both deserve it.”

Willas could not help but laugh.  “You’ve been listening to Leonette I see, she’s rubbing off on you.  You’re not going to start waxing emotional on me are you?”

Garlan shrugged.  “What can I say?  She’s my better half.”

The two men continued around the perimeter of the garden in silence.  It was Garlan who broke the quiet.  “Just think.  This will be the last time you get to have some peace and quiet for a while.  Infants can be rather loud when the wish to be.”

When they had come full circle Willas had to agree he did feel better than before, though the nerves were still present.  Upon entering his suite he could not hear anything from Sansa’s wing, he did not know if that was a good or bad thing.

Inside her room Sansa fell back against the pillows utterly spent.  Leonette wiped Sansa’s forehead with a cool cloth. “You did so well Sansa, it’s over now.”

Sansa tried to follow the midwife as she took her child to the basin along the far wall to clean up.  She was about to ask how the baby fared when a gasping noise came from the bundle in the woman’s arms followed by a high pitched cry that repeated over and over.

Her goodmother offered her a cup of water that Sansa took several long sips from.  After feeling her strength return enough to try and move she started to sit up against the headboard.  With Leonette’s help she situated herself and turned her attention to the midwife and her new infant.  Her mind raced with thoughts of whether or not she had given Willas and heir or not.  She knew that Willas and her would love the child regardless of its gender, still a small part of her wanted to give him a son first.

“The babe how is…”  Sansa’s voice trailed off as the midwife turned around.

“Your _daughter_ is perfectly fine milady.”  The woman brought the crying child to her mother.

Sansa reached out to the woman as she pressed the child into her arms.  Sansa did her best to comfort the newborn by rocking her back and forth like she had seen her mother do and she had with Leyton on occasion.  The infant continued to cry but now opened her eyes.  A light blue color looked up at Sansa’s own brighter blue eyes.  Her motions stilled and Sansa could have sworn time itself slowed down with her.

“Blue eyes.”  She heard her goodmother say.  “Perhaps they may look like yours.”

“Her hair will come in soon.  She may even have your hair as well.”  Leonette added.  The baby did not have much in the way of hair and the only thing Sansa could tell was that it was a very light color and quite sparse around the edges of her head.

A tiny balled hand stuck out from the cloth she was wrapped in and landed on Sansa’s breast as she laid cradled against her mother.  Sansa looked at the baby puzzled as to what she was doing.

“She’s hungry.”  Lady Tyrell said noticing her goddaughters expression.

“She can eat so soon?”

“She can milady.”  The midwife said.  “You can feed her while we get you cleaned up.

Several minutes later Sansa had figured out how to position her baby to get her to feed and had been cleaned up.

“We should tell Willas.  The poor boy is probably wearing down his crutches outside.”  Lady Tyrell spoke to Leonette.  “Congratulations again dear.”  She said to Sansa again.

“Thank you… mother.”  Sansa replied with heartfelt joy.

Lady Tyrell smiled and the room cleared out before her.

Not long after the doors opened again and Willas entered the room.  From where he was he could not tell if the child was a boy or a girl.  Only that he or she was currently busy feeding.

“Oh Willas!”  Sansa exclaimed when he sat down on the bed, his crutches clattering on the floor.

“And who is this?”  Willas asked as he ran a finger gently over the greedily suckling babes arm.

“Alysanne.”  His wife replied with a whisper as they watched the child.  “Alysanne Tyrell.  Would you like to hold her when she’s done?”

“I… I would.”  Willas moved to sit down on the bed next Sansa.  “I could get use to this.”

“Hmm…”  Sansa rested her head on Willas’s shoulder.  “So could I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've reached the end of my outline and am nearly done. 
> 
> I really liked the ideas for one scene I had in mind and it makes more sense as an epilogue in my opinion. So expect a shorter epilogue chapter hopefully sometime soon.
> 
> Additional small corrections made to earlier chapters.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	17. Epilogue: Roses of Highgarden

The redhead walked through the grand halls of Highgarden’s keep toward the lord’s study.  The large ornate doors were decorated with roses and vines running up to a large Tyrell rose directly above the door.  Inside sat a large desk that had a pair of crutches leaned up against it.  Whether he heard saw or could somehow sense her at the door the man at the desk looked up at her.  A smile formed on his lips.

“Father.”  The now young woman of five and ten said.

The man put down the letter he had been working on as she entered the room.  Whenever her mother answered letters from the North about important matters she would do so in the comfort of her and fathers solar or occasionally her own private one.  Father seemed to enjoy the lord’s study.  It was an interesting enough room.  Filled with all sorts of charts and maps, but the chairs were not the most comfortable Alysanne thought.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”  She knew the answer would be no, but a lady should always ask nonetheless in case her lord father was indeed busy.

“Of course not Alysanne.  Your studies are done for the day?”

“Yes, septa gave me the day off early.  I was wondering if you knew where mother is?  She is not in her chambers.”

“On a day like today she’s probably down at her pool.”

“I suppose that’s true.  I’ll see if she’s there.”  Alysanne turned to leave but then remembered her manners.  “Thank you father.  Would you like me to have some tea sent up for you.”

“No thank you.”

As his daughter left the study Willas watched her leave with a smile on his face.  She had the same red hair and blue eyes as her mother, but her build was all Tyrell.

Shortly after the birth of the second child and first son Alester, Sansa had confided fears of the tragedy that had befell her own family falling on them as well.  They had both worked hard to ensure that would never happen.  Their children were growing up amongst the roses of Highgarden and would know only peace, Willas was sure of that. 

House Tyrell was unmatched in Westeros.  The bounty of the Reach was now paired with the vast lands of the North.  The Reach and the North were further secured through both Willas and Sansa’s siblings at Brightwater Keep and the newly named Stark Hall, once the Dreadfort.   One day a Tyrell would rule over the North itself, the Tyrells would be the first to outright rule two of largest realms in the seven kingdoms.

Alliances through his marriage to Sansa with the Riverlands and the Eyrie further strengthened their northern border and the lands between them and the North. 

The Westerlands gold mines had run dry and the vast amount of manpower lost during the warring years took their toll on the land.  The raiders of the Iron Islands seemed to have learned their lesson when the Tyrell fleet set fire to every ship they could lay their hands on and had not caused problems for the Tyrells since.  To the south the Martel’s stayed well inside their borders content to keep the cool status quo.

The queen was a Tyrell and the future king was half a rose.  For the time being house Tyrell had no piers.  Not since the Targaryen’s ruled had one house held so much sway over the realm.

It was poetic justice in a way.  Their enemies had sought to crush or marginalize both the Stark or Tyrell houses.  Instead they had paved the way for the current order of things through their own lust for power.

Willas looked outside the study windows that opened onto an expansive view of the gardens.  It was a beautiful if a little warm outside.  He was nearing a stopping point in his work.  When he was done he would go in look of his wife as well.

* * *

 As Alysanne walked through the halls of Highgarden she passed the family portrait.  It had been commissioned just two years prior.  Her younger brothers had wanted to include the dogs in the painting.  Her parents were not so accommodating with their request.

She smiled and thanked the footman who opened the door to the outside.  The flowers had been in full bloom for several months now and were beautiful.

As she walked along the path to what the people of Highgarden called the wolf’s pool she could hear Alester and Bran running towards her along with the barking of dogs.  Soon the boys burst through one of the side paths with their dogs.  They were flying a kite along with them.  When Alysanne looked up at it she saw something familiar.

“Alester!  Bran!  That’s my ribbon!”  The young woman stomped her foot on the ground for emphasis.

The boys merely laughed and continued on their way through the garden.  Anger began to gather in Alysanne.  Why would they not listen to her?  Remembering what her mother had taught her she calmed down, smoothing out her dress and starting back on her way to her mother’s pool.

The pool was a private place that was tended to only by a select gardening staff when it was not in use.  It was one of the few places, aside from the family sept, godswood or her parents’ suite that they could be assured of their privacy.

By the side of the shallower end of the pool sat Sansa Tyrell.  Her dress pulled up to allow her feet to sink into the cool water up to her calves.  When Alysanne came into view Sansa smiled up at her.  One of her hands idly rested on the small swell of her stomach.  Two months earlier Sansa had informed her children that a younger sibling was to be expected.  Alysanne had taken the news joyfully.  She did not remember when Alester was born and her memories of Bran were vague.  Her brothers seemed to not know what to say or express much interest, just something else that puzzled Alysanne.

“Hello mother.  Do you mind if I join you?”

“Of course not.  Did septa Wynafryd give you the rest of the day off?”

Alysanne sat next to her mother.  “She did.”  After dipping her feet into the pool she relaxed.  It was calming here in the pool.  The sun shone through the leaves of the tree above them in a glittering effect.

“I received a letter from Brightwater yesterday.”  Sansa said playfully to her daughter.

Alysanne tried to play it of as any other bit of news, but she was very interested in what the letter contained.

“It would seem that the lord and lady of Brightwater Keep are to make a trip north to visit the Fossoways.  They will be stopping, of course, here in Highgarden.”

“Oh?”  Alysanne twirled her feet in the pool to hide her nervousness.

“Yes.  It would seem that a certain young lord will be accompanying them as well.”

Alysanne blushed at the mention of Leyton.  They had always enjoyed their visits and had taken to writing one another frequently over the past year.

“Mother?”  Alysanne asked.  “What was it like when father courted you?”  Then something came to her that she had never considered.  Father was from the Reach and mother was from the North.  How had they met.  “Did you meet at one of his tourneys?” 

It was the only thing that would have made sense to Alysanne.  Her father must have traveled north to take part in a tourney before his injury and met her mother there.  Did he crown her his queen of love and beauty to show his affection?  Here in Highgarden father had given her mother many different gifts, including the pool they now sat at.  She imagines the whole story must have been like something out of one the many books that lined the wall of her room.

“No sweetling.  We did not meet at a tourney.  Your father only took part in one.  That was before I ever met him.”  Sansa looked off into the distance for a moment.  “Our courtship was very rushed.  It was a difficult time, but he tried to make it as easy as possible.”

This was news to Alysanne.  Her father’s tourney accident was not a topic the family discussed.  She knew he had been injured in one, but not that it was his first.  Her father rarely left the Reach, she knew that much, so how did they meet if mother was from so far North if father rarely traveled?  And why was their courtship rushed, had father… somehow dishonored her mother?  The appalling thought must have shown itself on her face.

“The reason our courtship was quick was not because of anything your father did Alysanne.”  Sansa was quick to put down any thoughts of a less than honorable Willas.  “He was and is the consummate gentleman and knight.  We married quickly to prevent the king or queen from forcing me to marry someone of their choosing after I ran away.”

Mother ran away?  New questions popped into Alysanne’s mind.  “Why were you running?”

“Do you remember what I told you about your grandfather?”

Alysanne did.  He had been betrayed by the Lannisters and killed.  She nodded slowly.  Her mother seemed to hesitate to speak.

“I was in the capital when it happened.  I was to marry the king, I was his betrothed.”

“King Tommen?”  That was strange Alysanne thought.  Aunt Margery was married to the king.  He seemed nice enough when she had visited the capital.

“No, not to King Tommen.  I was to marry his brother Joffrey.”

Everyone knew of the king’s brother.  Killed at his own wedding by poison.  Whenever his name was brought up around her parents they seemed to bristle.  No one she knew had anything good to say about him.

“Joffrey was a cruel man.  I wanted nothing to do with him after he killed my father.”  Sansa regretted that it had taken that to finally break the last bit of hope she had clung to as to whether or not he was the golden haired king she thought he was.

“When your aunt arrived in the capital she told me about her brother and about Highgarden.  When the Lannisters found out about their plan to have me visit Willas to meet him, we had to leave then or they would have forced me into a marriage with one of them.  So your uncle Garlan and aunt Leonette took me away from Kings Landing at night and we came to Highgarden.”

Sansa looked around at the garden.  “I think your father started building this about the same time I arrived.”  Her face then fell some.  “I didn’t see it until after news came of my mother and brother.”

Alysanne knew what news that was.  The Red Wedding was infamous in Westeros.

“As the Lady of Winterfell I am the key to the North.  The Lannisters would have tried once again to force me into a marriage not of my choosing.  So, I accepted your father’s hand.  We married soon thereafter.”

Alysanne’s head swam with the new insight into her parents past.  She had always though they were a love match.  It was common knowledge that the lord and lady of Highgarden were very much in love with one another.  The idea that her mother had married her father for protection was a strange one.

 “I always thought you and father were a love match.”

Sansa laughed gently at her daughter.  “Who says we aren’t?”

“I…I didn’t mean… only that…”

“I know what you meant.”  Sansa gently reassured her.  “In all the ways that matter we are a love match.  We did not start out that way though.”

“Was the first time you met father was here in Highgarden then?”

“It was.  I was quite nervous you know.”

It was now Alysanne’s turn to laugh.  The idea of her mother scared of her father was preposterous.  Willas Tyrell was one of the most soft spoken men she knew.

The sound of dogs and boys ran by the bushes nearby along the path.  A kite flapped in the wind.  From the tail of the kite Sansa saw a brightly colored ribbon.  “Is that one of your ribbons?”

Alysanne sighed.  “It is.”

“I’ll tell them to keep out of your ribbons.  There are plenty of other places to get something for their kite.”

Just then Willas came into view.  He was using his cane along with a leg brace.  “I think your brothers want you to take them down to the river.”  He said to his daughter.

“As long as they don’t throw mud at me like last time.” 

“We promise.  Right Bran?”  The two Tyrell boys poked their heads around a rose bush.

“Right.  We promise.”  They both beamed at Alysanne with hopeful expressions.

“Alright.”  Alysanne got up and went over to the boys who were cheering and started running toward the gate with their dogs in tow.

As the sound of their playful children died out in the distance Willas helped his wife to her feet after she put her shoes on.  “Would you agree to accompany me to the river my lady?  I believe there is a particular spot you fancy that has a stunning view.”  He said with a flare.  “It would also allow us to keep an eye on the children.”  He added.

“I would be happy to my lord.”  Sansa wound her arm through her husband’s offered arm.  The two set off at a slow pace.

As they made their way through the gardens Sansa rested her head against Willas’s shoulder.  No, they had not started off as a love match, but they did love each other.  Not in the flowery ways of the songs, though Willas did bestow her with gifts every now and then, but a more sedate love.  It was real and it was theirs.  She smiled to herself and then at Willas.  She knew he was thinking the same thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is, the final chapter to my first story. This has been a really fun experience in writing. I'm a little sad to see this story come to an end now that it's done.
> 
> I have some vague plans for a second possible Sansa/Willas story. I also have a Word document with a lot of ideas for scenes that did not make it into this story. I may role those into the possible second story or release them as short stories.
> 
> I know I did a lot of tense shifting in writing this; I tried to keep it past tense as I moved along in the writing.
> 
> Additional small corrections made in earlier chapters.
> 
> And thank you as always for reading!


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